


From the Deep

by G_N_Story



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Bottom Bucky Barnes, M/M, Magic-Users, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-12 18:09:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10496664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/G_N_Story/pseuds/G_N_Story
Summary: It's 1943.  Captain Rogers meets a stranger in a London bar who seems to have a strange effect on him.  But Steve could never imagine what kind of power this stranger truly holds, or the kind of danger that it puts in Steve in.  Can Steve resist this stranger's allure?  Does he truly want to?OrBucky is a Telosparados, a creature far more ancient than the folk tales that surround his kind.  His tribe are a secretive and well-hidden people who wield ancient magic.  He's been sent to bring Captain America to the Sunken City, but he can't imagine the malintent that his mysterious new master has for him.  He also never imagined that he would actually *fall* for his target.





	1. A Stranger in a Bar

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a teaser chapter. I'm working through this idea and I'd like to know what yall think of the first few chapters so I can decide if I'll continue. Please, if you're interested, leave a comment and let me know!

The bar Steve sits in with his men is dim, and a bit dirty, but his drunken and singing men hardly care.  Steve leans back in his chair, bringing the watered down ale to his lips and grinning slightly over his mug.  It’s been nearly three months since he’s seen his men smiling and laughing like they are now.  Three months in the trenches, in the cold, the rain and the mud.  Steve is glad to see his men in  good spirits, even if he isn’t a much of a drinker.  He finishes his ale, dropping the mug with a wet thud against the damp and worn wooden bar top. 

Steve is tired, bone tired, more tired than he’s been since he was a boy, since before the serum.  He gets to his feet, raising a hand to his first sergeant.  Dum Dum waves an unsteady hand back, a crooked smile on his face.

“Where you off to, Cap’n?” Dum Dum calls.

Steve smiles tightly, walking closer to the table of his men.

“Just going to head to bed,” Steve replies.

Immediately, the table of drunken soldiers begin to shout in protest, raising their slopping mugs and calling Steve to join them.  Steve pats Dum Dum on the shoulder and smiles a little wider at his men.

“Tomorrow night, boys.  The Colonel is up my ass about a debrief at the crack of dawn.”

The men boo, good-naturedly, but accept Steve’s retreat. 

Steve turns and pushes through the bustling bar, dropping a wad of cash on the bar top, a lazy salute to the overworked bartender.  Steve maneuvers past the drunken soldiers towards the door.  Just as he reaches for the mottled handle, the door swings open and Steve nearly collides with the man entering the bar.

“Apologies,” Steve stutters, taking a step back and meeting a pair of steel grey eyes

A strong hand lands on Steve’s upper arm and Steve feels a chill run down the length of his spine.

The man is tall, nearly as tall as Steve.  His brown hair is nearly to his shoulders, soft and wavy and tucked behind his pierced ears.  He’s got a strong jawbone shadowed by short facial hair and Steve’s eyes follow its sharp cut to a pair of soft pink lips.  His eyes move back up to the grey eyes that seem almost to shimmer like sunlight hitting water, framed by thick lashes, and he feels his breath catch.

This man is clearly not an Ally Soldier, though he certainly has the build for it.  He’s dressed oddly enough.  A loose fitting tunic with a plunging neckline so low that Steve can make out the cut of his chest muscles.  His skin is smooth and tan and Steve is struck with the sudden longing to reach out and touch it. A thick silver chain encircles his neck.  His pants are made of a worn, brown material that almost looks like leather and that stop just below the man’s knees.  A quick glance down shows that the man isn’t wearing shoes.  Altogether, he’s dressed inappropriately for the cold weather outside, and entirely out of place in war-torn London. 

The man chuckles softly and Steve suddenly realizes that he’s been looking this man up and down, appraising.  Steve feels heat crawling up his neck and blossoming across his face.  He clears his throat and steps back further.

“No, my fault,” the man replies with a stunning smile, his voice deep and accent difficult to place.  “I hardly ever watch where I’m going.”

Steve barely comprehends the man’s words.  He’s just been staring _longingly_ at a _man_.  He gulps hard, trying to clear the fog from his mind.  He had thought that this all was over.  He had thought that he was finished with such nonsense. 

But the man reaches out and touches Steve again, and that fog only thickens.

“Excuse me,” Steve says weakly, attempting to sidestep past this stranger who is giving Steve downright immoral thoughts.

“You’re leaving?” the man asks, sounding categorical disappointed.

Isn’t it obvious? Steve wants to say.  He’s clearly trying to go through the door.  He has to leave, he has to get out of here and sober up because, obviously, he’s had more to drink than he thought.

But the man’s grey eyes keep Steve rooted to the spot, and all he can do is nod like an idiot.

“Stay,” the man commands, grip tightening on Steve’s arm.  His silver eyes slip past Steve to look over his shoulder.  “I know hardly anyone here, won’t you have a drink with me?”

“You-you don’t know me, either,” Steve sputters.

“Well,” the man replies, voice pitching low, “you seem like a friendly enough fellow.  And the only one here not drunk off his rocker.”

Steve clears his throat nervously.  Those eyes are boring into his own again and he can’t find any words to say except, “Alright, I suppose I could stay for one more.”

Steve is rewarded with another dazzling smile.  The man drops his hand and slips past Steve, stepping much closer than necessary in the space provided, and his body touches Steve’s as he does.  More chills tap dance along Steve’s body as goosebumps erupt across his skin.

Like a lost puppy dog, Steve follows the stranger through the crowded bar, hardly noticing anyone else.  He shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t be seen by his men following this strangely dressed man through a bar, yet his feet keep carrying him forward.  The man signals to the bartender who greets him with a wide grin and a swift nod.  They continue, past the many uniformed soldiers and the other local barflies and all the way to the back of the bar, finally stopping at a secluded, shadowy corner.  The man steps back to allow Steve to sit.  Steve chooses the stool closest to the walls.  Instead of sitting across from him, the man saddles up in the seat right next to Steve, their thighs nearly touching.  He turns to where Steve is watching him with wide eyes and _winks_ at him before pulling a pack of cigarettes from God-knows-where.  He offers one to Steve, but Steve can only shake his head numbly.

The man strikes a match and lights his cigarette before glancing back over at Steve.  He takes a long draw, mischievous eyes never leaving Steve’s own, never even _blinking_ , before he pulls the cigarette away and exhales a long, thin line of smoke and sighing heavily.

“Ah, haven’t had a drag in too fucking long,” the man sighs, a dopey smile crossing his face.  Steve suddenly realizes that he’s smiling back.  “James,” the man says with yet another wink.  “But my friends call me Bucky.  And you’re going to be my friend, right?”

“Why?” Steve asks nonsensically.  James gives him a quizzical look.  Steve clears his throat.  “Why do your friends call you Bucky?”

James’ eyes go to Steve’s chest, and Steve suddenly feels self-conscious, exposed.

“Well, Captain Rogers, I suppose you’ll just have to get to know me to find out.  Would you like that?”

“Like-like what?”

“To get to know me?”

“Uhm,” is the only dumb answer that Steve can think of.  But then Bucky’s hand is on Steve’s wrist and Steve is nodding like a fool. 

“Yes,” Steve breaths.

Bucky laughs and it’s the most beautiful sound that Steve has ever heard.

“So how about you?” Bucky asks, hand disappearing and Steve almost cries out in protest.

“How-how about me what?”

“What do your friends call you?”

“Steve,” Steve replies too quickly.

“Steve Rogers,” Bucky purrs, and Steve wants to hear this man say his name like that every day for the rest of his life.  Bucky looks around the bar quickly before nodding at a nearby wall.  “That you?”

Reluctantly, Steve tears his eyes away from Bucky to look at the poster on the wall.  It’s him, dressed in his red, white and blue onsie.  The words CAPTAIN AMERICA TOUR under the picture and a red CANCELLED stamped across his face.

Steve chuckles.

“Yeah, yeah that’s me.”

“And where is that _marvelous_ outfit tonight, Captain?”

“I-I…I don’t wear that anymore.”

Bucky’s eyes rove Steve up and down and Steve feels painfully exposed.

“That’s too bad,” Bucky replies, voice dangerously low.  “I would have loved to see that.”

“It’s in my barracks!” Steve practically cries.

Bucky arches a single eyebrow and takes a long drag on his cigarette.  As he blows out and levels Steve with a serious look.

“Are you offering me a private show, Captain America?”

All of a sudden, Steve finally comes to his senses.  He gets to his feet so fast that his stool topples over, drawing attention to their secluded corner.  He realizes that the way that Bucky is sitting is blocking Steve’s retreat.  Bucky frowns up at him.  Steve looks around wildly.  He then realizes that Bucky hasn’t even ordered a drink.  What the hell is happening?  He huffs loudly, rubbing his eyes.

“Please excuse me, I have to go,” Steve insists, desperation pitching his voice.

Bucky’s hand, cigarette between his fingers, reaches for Steve.  But Steve ducks out of Bucky’s reach.

“What are you doing to me?” Steve demands, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper because he can see the soldiers around them craning their necks and watching.

“What do you mean?” Bucky asks, sounding so hurt that Steve’s stomach twists just a bit.

“Who the hell are you?”  Steve knows he sounds like he’s on the edge, he can hear the fear in his own voice.  “How-how did you know?”

“Know what, Steve?” Bucky replies, eyes wide and sad.

“It’s Captain Rogers,” Steve snaps.

“I just wanted someone to talk to,” Bucky says innocently, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips.  Steve stares at those lips for far too long before he comes back to his senses.

“You’re Hydra,” Steve accuses, voice barely audible.

“I’m what?”

“Don’t play dumb!  Let me out of here right now or I’m going to be forced to become physical.”

Bucky’s expression suddenly becomes devilish.

“You don’t want to cause a scene now do you, Captain America?”

Steve shoves the table a foot away from him and ducks out of the corner, practically running away.  He shoves through the crowd, head ducked down, refusing to meet any of the questioning eyes on him.  He’s sweating, something he almost never does.  When he reaches the door, he dares a glance back.  Bucky is still sitting at that table, smoking his cigarette, a small smile on his lips.  Steve stares for a moment too long, because Bucky’s lips move.  Steve can’t hear him from all the way across the noisy bar, but he can definitely read his lips.

“See you tomorrow, Captain.”

Steve huffs angrily and shoves the door open, darting out into the frigid London air.


	2. Incubus

Bucky finishes his cigarette and lights another, and another.  He finishes nearly the entire pack as the bar around him begins to empty.  Drunken soldiers dragging their even more drunk friends back to their barracks, none of them lucid enough to throw him even a glace.  He stays in the shadows, hidden away the way he prefers, and waits.  As the final stragglers make their way out of the bar, leaving only lonely locals still in their stools, a shock of red and a sudden commotion announces her arrival. 

Nat shoves the soldiers who catcall to her out of her way, making a beeline towards Bucky.  When she finally gets to the table, she throws her long hair over her shoulder and rolls her eyes.

“I hate drunks,” she glowers, shooting a look at the bartender and ordering vodka.

Bucky huffs a small laugh but says nothing, just takes another drag on his cigarette.  Nat reaches across the table and snags a nearly empty pack, flipping it open and lighting a cigarette with the snap of her fingers.  The bartender gives both of them a conspiratorial smile as he sets two shots of vodka down in front of Nat.  Nat grabs his arm as he turns away.

“Leave the bottle,” she demands, and he immediately does as she asks.

Bucky still remains silent as Nat swallows the shots down smoothly and refills the glasses.

“So, I see you’re still here,” Nat observes, her green eyes flashing up towards Bucky.  “Were you wrong?  Do I need to step in?”

“I’m never wrong,” Bucky replies.  “Cat and mouse, I think is the term.  It’s all part of the fun.”

“We’re not here for fun,” Nat points out.

“Eh.  I always have fun,” Bucky says, leaning over to grab the bottle of vodka from Nat.  He takes a long swig.  “Don’t worry,” Bucky insists when he sees the doubtful look on Nat’s face.  He brings a finger to his temple, tapping twice.  “I’ll be visiting him tonight.”

Nat glances around suspiciously.  She’s always suspicious.  There are only two patrons left in the bar and both slump against their arms, clearly intoxicated.  She’s moves quickly, cat like, as she shifts into the stool next to Bucky.  Immediately, she wraps her leg around his under the table before grabbing the bottle from his hands.

“Well then you ought to get to it,” she says, barely above a whisper.  She leans in and kisses Bucky’s cheek before getting to her feet. 

Bucky furrows her brow and gives Nat a questioning look.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“I have…a project that I’m in the middle of.”

Bucky cocks an eyebrow.  Nat reaches into the leather satchel at her waist and extracts a single, severed, human finger.  She sets it on the table in front of Bucky.  He picks it up and turns it in his hand.  It’s a pointer finger and tattooed on the knuckle in a faded black star.

“You didn’t,” Bucky breaths.

Nat just winks at him and then she’s gone. 

Bucky’s breath catches and he squeezes the finger tight.  It’s freshly severed, and some blood leaks out and slides between his own fingers. 

He hopes the brute suffers.

 

 

 

Steve is in his small apartment in Brooklyn.  It’s early morning and sunlight is beginning to pour through the windows.  He blinks open his eyes, breathing in the aroma of home.  It’s comforting and warm.  His apartment is small, the same apartment that he grew up in.  He can almost hear his mother singing as she cooks breakfast, and it’s a comfort that almost overwhelms Steve with happiness. 

He rolls over in his bed and finds the warm mass of another body beside him.  Squinting against the sun, he sees soft brown hair spread against a pillow.  Bucky rolls onto his side but doesn’t open his eyes.

“It’s too early to be awake,” Bucky says sleepily.

Steve presses closer to Bucky under the sheets.  The man’s naked body radiates warmth.  But when Bucky feels Steve’s erection press against his thigh, he raises a single eyebrow.

“Oh,” Bucky chuckles, finally opening those beautiful grey eyes. 

Bucky takes no time in hiking a leg up over Steve’s hip, pressing his own growing erection against Steve’s stomach.  He gyrates against Steve, all smooth skin and thick muscle, and Steve revels in the feeling.  Bucky bites his lip and glances down at Steve.

“So, you’re a morning lay kind of guy?” Bucky laughs.

“How can I resist when I have you in my bed?” Steve asks playfully.

Bucky rolls them just slightly so that they’re both on their sides before reaching down and stroking Steve’s cock teasingly with a single finger.  It makes Steve shiver.  Bucky pulls his hand away though, and Steve huffs in frustration, wrapping both of his arms around Bucky with a growl.

“Mmm, you going to take what you want, Captain?” Bucky purrs.  Steve can only growl again in reply.  Bucky leans forward, lips brushing Steve’s ear when he speaks.  “Then take it.”

Steve thrusts upward and into Bucky in one fluid motion.  Bucky’s head falls back and he sighs.  Steve eyes the long, smooth column of his throat hungrily.  He’s beautiful and it’s almost overwhelming.  Bucky thrusts himself slowly downward onto Steve’s cock, before he rolls his hips in a motion so filthy that Steve almost loses it right there.  They find a deliciously slow rhythm almost immediately, Steve thrusting upwards and Bucky pressing back down.  It’s perfect and so fucking hot that Steve wants to die.  Maybe he has died, maybe this is heaven.

Bucky’s strong arms wrap around Steve neck and he brings his lips back to Steve’s ear.

“Is this what you want, Steve?” Bucky asks.

“Yes,” Steve cries, voice breaking a bit.

Bucky quickens the pace, hips working in tight circles that drag along Steve’s cock head and Steve is about to come right then and there.

“Then why are you so afraid?”

Steve leans back a bit to look into Bucky’s eyes, brow pinched.  He suddenly feels like he might cry.  Bucky’s hips begin to rock, much faster now, back and forth in a way that has Steve going deeper and deeper, and it feels so _fucking good_.

“Take what you want, Steve Rogers,” Bucky says.  “Take me.”

And Steve comes at those words, gasping and sitting up in a bed far too small for him, in a reality much colder and less forgiving than the dream world he has just catapulted himself out of.  Steve sputters, tossing his now soiled sheets off of himself.  The dream had felt _so real_.  He can almost smell Bucky on his skin, like lavender and salt air.  Steve digs his fingers into his eyes, trying to purge the dream from his brain, but it lingers insistently, heating his skin.

How old is he?  He thought he had stopped having these kinds of dreams when he was eighteen.  Guilt and shame hit him like a tidal wave and he looks around nervously even though he knows his small, dimly lit room in the officer’s quarters is empty.  It’s stifling hot in the small concrete building, and Steve is still sweating from the dream.  As quick as he can, he shoves his feet into his boots and grabs his green fatigue top, throwing it on and buttoning it as he shoulders his way out of his room and towards the frigid morning outside.

The winter air helps clear his head.  Steve feels himself coming back into his senses, even if his brain still lingers on the dream and the stranger in the bar the night before.  Even thinking back to that dark corner feels like remembering a dream.  Hazy, unreal.  Had he somehow been drugged?  His pace quickens.

What on earth is happening to him?  Who the hell was this James fellow?  And how dare he try to-

Steve stops in his tracks, shaking his head hard.  No, he wasn’t going to think like that.  That’s _over_.  But even as Steve presses the palms of his hands hard into his sockets, so hard that he starts to see stars, he can also clearly see something else.  Guilt and shame and abject terror fill his stomach at the thought, the memory.  He had just been a kid.  It hadn’t meant anything.  He had just lost his mother, he had been vulnerable and hurting and it would never happen again.

It would never happen again.

He had made an absolute fool of himself in that bar.  What if some of his men had seen?  Steve’s mind begins flying through the long list of consequences for that sort of behavior.  He’s frantic and he has to keep moving because suddenly he remembers James’ words from the night before.

See you tomorrow, Captain.

Some small part of Steve perks up, and he suddenly wants to glance around.  But Steve resists, scolding himself for those kinds of thoughts.  He drops his hands and turn and nearly walks right into Peggy Carter.

“Steven!” Peggy cries, struggling with a stack of folders in her arms.

Steve reaches out to steady her, relief filling him instantly.  Peggy is good.  Peggy is a woman and she’s beautiful.  But she’s also so much more than that.  She’s strong and she’s fierce and she’s formidable.  Most of all, Peggy is safe.

“ _Peggy_ ,” Steve sighs, almost grateful.

Peggy pats her hair and readjusts her grip on her folders.

“You’re in quite the hurry.  I was just about to come find you after I dropped these off with the Colonel,” Peggy says, grinning up at him.

“Sorry, I’m still half asleep,” Steve offers as an excuse.

“Understandably, you had a long week.”

Steve stares down at her.  Her face is flushed from the cold, but she looks just as put together and perfect as always.  Steve has always wondered how she does it.  He smiles to himself.

“What are you grinning at?” Peggy asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Steve says quickly.  “May I take those for you?”

He holds out his arms and Peggy smiles back at him.

“Oh, thank you, dear.  Though I warn you, if you come with me now, the Colonel would never let you leave.”

“I was on my way to see him anyway.” Steve replies, grin widening.  Peggy sighs and concedes, holding out the folders.  Steve takes them into his arms.

Peggy leads Steve towards the command offices, warning him that the Colonel is in a mood this morning. 

“Isn’t he always?” Steve asks.

“Well, this is war,” Peggy reminds him.

True.  As they walk, Steve catches himself glancing around, almost nervously.  He tries to keep his attention on Peggy’s clicking heels, somehow not getting caught in the cobblestone, but his mind keeps wandering.  He knows that he’s looking for James, but he doesn’t know how he would feel if he actually found him.  Luckily, the walk is short and it’s not long before Peggy is giving him a look that says, “good luck” before retreating from the Colonel’s cramped office, leaving Steve alone with him.

Two hours and one hell of a migraine later, Steve is sluggish as he braces himself out of habit for the cold.  It’s started to snow now, and the wet, heavy flakes mix with ash as they fall.  The effect is not pretty, not the way freshly fallen snow should be, but instead makes the war-torn city look even more apocalyptic. 

He heads towards the bar because he knows that that is where Dum Dum will be.  The lengthy and heated debrief had been such burden that Steve has almost entirely forgotten about his lurid dream.  Unfortunately for him, though, he once again runs headfirst into the star of said dream.

Steve really needs to start watching where he is going.

“Good morning, Captain,” Bucky drawls.

Steve stiffens and takes several steps back, out of the man’s reach.  The fool is still barefoot, still barely dressed despite the elements.  Steve very nearly asks him why the hell he doesn’t put on some shoes, but stops himself.  He doesn’t want to be caught up in another conversation with Bucky.

“Excuse me,” Steve mumbles, taking a wide side step around Bucky.

“How’d you sleep?” Bucky asks nonchalantly, refusing to accept Steve’s retreat.  “Pleasant dreams?”

Steve knows he shouldn’t engage.  He should keep walking, straight towards the bar door that’s not ten feet away.  He’s an idiot for taking the bait, and he’s kicking himself internally as he turns back around slowly.

“What’d you say?”

“Well,” Bucky smiles devilishly, “you just appear to have gotten a good night’s rest.  A little pep in your step this morning.”

The bastard _winks_ again.

Steve’s had enough.  Without a second thought he charges, grabbing Bucky’s thin tunic and shoving hard, dragging him down an alleyway and out of sight.  Bucky just half smiles and lets himself be pulled along until Steve throws him hard against the brick wall.

“Who the hell are you?  What the hell have you done to me?!” Steve demands.

“Me?  Oh, I’m nobody special.  Just someone looking for a friend.”

“ _Stop that!”_ Steve hisses.  “Stop this little-little _act_ that you’re putting on!  You’re Hydra, or you’re a spy.  And-and…” Steve falters, mind clouding because Bucky has reached up and his fingers are brushing Steve’s forearm.  For a long second, it’s all Steve can think about.  “How _did you know?!”_

“Know what?” Bucky asks innocently, eyes so wide and so bright that Steve can see his own flushed face in their reflection.

Steve takes a shaky breath.  He doesn’t want to say too much, but it’s hard to find the words when Bucky’s wide palm has now closed around Steve’s arm and is slowly lowering it.

“Now, Captain, did you take me back here to have your way with me?” Bucky asks, face going wicked.  He leans in close, dragging Steve towards him with the grip he has on his arm.  When he whispers, his lips brush Steve’s ear and Steve shivers, remembering his dream.  “Take what you want, Steve Rogers.”

Steve reels, taking a few steps back and shoving Bucky hard away from him.  Bucky just grins and leans casually against the wall.  Steve shakes his head, pressing his hands into his eyes again.  When he glances up, Bucky is still there, one shoulder against the bricks, bare feet in the snow.

“Why don’t you wear shoes?” Steve asks weakly.

Bucky barks a laugh, a real genuine laugh.

“ _That’s_ what you want to ask me?” Bucky laughs in disbelief. 

“No,” Steve growls, taking a menacing step forward, but Bucky doesn’t recoil.  He doesn’t even move.  “I want to ask you how the _fuck_ you got into my goddam dreams.”

“Oh Steve, you dreamed about me?  How sweet.” 

Bucky’s tone is anything but sweet.

“Shut the fuck up!  I know that you’re-you’re _doing this_ somehow!” Steve accuses, hands slashing through the air to make his animated point.

“Language, Captain,” Bucky says, voice low and teasing.

“Stop that!” Steve roars, taking another step towards Bucky.  They’re back to being chest to chest.  Steve is suddenly out of breath, but Bucky barely even moves, just turns slightly to lean both shoulder blades against the wall behind him.

“Look,” Bucky says, lowering his chin and looking up at Steve through his lashes.  “Let’s just say I’m a local boy who has a _thing_ for men in uniform.”  Steve scowls.  “Or not,” Bucky laughs, but then his voice pitches dark.  “I’m whatever you want me to be, Steve.”

A low whine escapes the back of Steve’s throat involuntarily.  His knees are feeling suddenly very weak, and Bucky is reaching up, running a finger down his face.

“Nobody has to know, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” Bucky whispers.

“Stop,” Steve says weakly, but he doesn’t move.  Bucky’s finger continues down Steve’s neck and runs along his collar bone, then down the center of his chest, finally coming to rest just above his belly button.

“Ok,” Bucky breaths, cocking his head.

But Steve doesn’t move.  He doesn’t think he can move.  He’s rooted to the spot, his dream from the night before blossoming in his mind’s eye, and pure desire edging him towards his need to see how Bucky’s skin tastes.  Steve grinds his teeth and tries his hardest to move away, but he can’t.

Steve takes a shaky breath and Bucky grins up at him.  Bucky’s finger continues downward quickly, tracing the edge of Steve’s pant-line as he leans in, lips brushing Steve’s ear again.

“I know a place we can go,” Bucky breaths.

Steve feels his face grow even hotter as Bucky’s finger traces the outline of his suddenly painful erection.  But then Bucky pulls his hands away and Steve _whimpers_ in protest.  Bucky is ducking out from the frame of Steve’s arm and stalking down the alleyway, not even looking back.  A quick battle takes place in Steve’s mind, but it’s over just as soon as it begins because Steve’s feet are moving and he’s following Bucky.

It’s been so long, _so fucking long_.  Steve’s been lying to himself, been convincing himself that he’s normal when he’s known all along that he’s sick in the head.  Sheer need is driving him now as he follows on unsteady legs.  He’s lost in his own head, so much so that he doesn’t even notice that Bucky’s bare feet don’t leave any prints in the grey snow.  They walk past the bar, past the commander’s quarters, past the edge of the encampment even.  Nobody stops them.  In fact, nobody even looks at them.  Steve barely notices.  After several minutes, Bucky turns into a small hotel and, like the night before with the bartender, he waves absentmindedly at the small woman at the front desk.  She nods happily and looks the other way as Bucky starts up the stairs.

Steve is in a trance.  He _knows_ he’s in a trance but he can’t shake himself out of it.  He follows Bucky into a room on the second floor.  Bucky closes the door behind Steve as Steve comes to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Steve whispers.  Bucky crosses the space between them almost instantly.  His hands run up Steve’s chest and come to rest on the back of his neck.

“Why not?” Bucky asks innocently.

“Be-because it’s wrong,” Steve replies weakly, eyes going to the floor.

Bucky leans in to whisper again.

“Says who?”

He doesn’t give Steve a chance to answer before his lips are on Steve’s.  They’re full and soft and they feel so _good_.  Bucky starts out gentle, but as soon as Steve opens up for him and brings his hands to rest lightly on Bucky’s hips, Bucky becomes absolutely _filthy_ with it.  He pulls away and looks up at Steve, eyes wide and pupils blown.  They’re so bright that they look like liquid silver, swirling in a way that is hypnotic.

“I know you want to touch me, Steve.”

Steve shudders and nods frantically.  Bucky reaches down and grabs Steve’s wrists, guiding his hands to the hem of Bucky’s tunic.  Steve pulls the shirt off of Bucky’s body, disheveling his hair in a way that makes Steve want to run his hands through it.  As if reading his mind, Bucky directs one of Steve’s hands to his hair and the other to the impossibly soft skin of Bucky’s hip.  Steve runs his hand through Bucky’s soft locks, fisting it at the base of Bucky’s neck and tugging hard, exposing his neck.  Bucky grins wickedly at Steve and Steve bends down, kissing the soft skin there.  He can’t stop himself from biting.  When Bucky hisses, Steve pulls away immediately.

“I’m-I’m sorry,” Steve stutters, starting to pull away.

“It’s ok,” Bucky says, stilling Steve with a hand on the back of his neck.  “I like it rough.”

With that permission, Steve turns and throws Bucky hard against the bed, not wasting a second as he strips out of his own shirt and covers Bucky’s body with his.  He can’t decide where to touch, to lick, so he settles on _everywhere_.  Bucky’s sharp collarbone, his pink nipples, his muscled abdomen.  Steve ruts his aching erection against Bucky’s hip and Bucky wrestles him onto his back, flipping his hair to one side and unbuttoning Steve’s pants.  Before Steve can say a word, his pants are at his knees and relief floods his body as his erection is freed.  Bucky wastes no time and taking Steve into his mouth, swallowing down to the base in one practiced movement that nearly makes Steve lose it right there.  He reaches down frantically to still Bucky’s head with his hand, and Bucky stays there, nose nuzzling into the blonde hair at the base of Steve’s cock.

Steve curls his toes and pulls his hand back and Bucky goes to work.  It’s filthy and it’s wet and Steve thinks that he might die.  All of the filthy fantasies that he’s emotionally lashed himself for throughout his entire life, Bucky seems prepared to fulfill.  Steve honestly feels like he is floating.  His breath is coming ragged as Bucky hands rove his body, leaving goosebumps in their wake.  Bucky ducks down to take Steve’s balls into his mouth, hands clenching the insides of Steve’s thighs, and Steve can’t stand it for a moment more.  He sits up, grabbing Bucky by the shoulders.  The other man is plaint, allowing himself to be thrown against the pillows.  Steve uses the tiny amount of logical thinking he has to look around the room as he drag’s those tight leather pants off of Bucky’s body.  Again, as if reading his mind, Bucky produces a small can of from nowhere.

Steve kicks his own pants off the rest of the way, shoving his boots off as well.  They’re both entirely naked.  Steve fumbles with the oil, slicking up his cock sloppily when Bucky sits bolt upright, throwing a strong arm around Steve’s neck and bringing his lips to Steve’s ear.

“Fuck me,” Bucky hisses, before leaning back and catching Steve’s eye.  “Take what you want, Captain America.”

Steve can hardly handle it.  He wraps one arm around Bucky, and uses his other hand to line up his cock.

“Don’t go easy on me,” Bucky commands with a wicked smile.

Steve does just that, thrusting up hard and burying himself inside of Bucky.  It feels so fucking good that Steve very nearly cries.  He pulls out a bit and thrusts up again.  Bucky huffs, throwing his head back in pleasure, eyes closed lightly.  Steve starts up a slow, deep pace and Bucky catches his eye again.

“This is what you want, right?” Bucky tells, more than he asks.

“It is,” Steve breaths, voice trembling.

“Don’t be afraid.  I don’t break easy.”

Steve shifts his weight, throwing Bucky back onto the pillows and pressing his own weight down as he pushes Bucky’s knees to his chest.  He starts thrusting at a punishing pace.  Bucky is making sounds of pure ecstasy and Steve wants nothing but to hear those sounds for the entirety of his life.  Bucky’s strong hands dig into Steve’s shoulders as he eggs him on with commands of “faster” and “harder,” voice breathy but strong.  He keeps his eyes open, those swirling silver pools boring into Steve’s brain.  Are eyes supposed to look like that?  Steve reaches down with his still slick hand and begins to stroke Bucky’s cock, hard and heavy against his navel. 

Steve angles his hips up and he knows he’s got it right when Bucky’s mouth falls open and his head drops back, the column of his neck a perfect arch.  Steve can’t help himself, he leans forward and mouths along it until Bucky straightens again and catches Steve’s lips in his own.

Bucky pulls back, putting his lips to Steve’s ears again.

“Steve, come inside me,” he commands, voice strong but dripping with honey, and that voice alone is enough for Steve to do what he asks. 

Bucky’s hands frame Steve’s face and yanks him down into a bruising kiss.  Steve feels Bucky begin to come in his hand and it’s all so overwhelming.  He feels his balls tighten.  He tries to pull away, but Bucky’s grip is strong and he can’t move.  His whole body stiffens and he thrusts as deep as he can and starts to come.  Bucky moans into his mouth, kiss deepening, impossibly so.  It’s starting to become painful.  Bucky yanks himself up by Steve’s neck, lips still latched onto Steve’s.  It’s frantic and predatory and as Steve feels himself empty, he actually begins to feel _empty._  

Steve tries again to pull back and away from Bucky, but the brunette doesn’t allow it.  Steve throws his body to the side, quickly losing all of his strength, and they go crashing to the floor.  Bucky huddles over Steve, lips still attached like a leech, and he’s _drinking_ like a man dying of thirst.

Steve’s vision tunnels.  His arms and legs grow so heavy that they fall to the carpet with dull thuds.  He’s losing consciousness. 

Bucky finally pulls away.  There’s blood on his lips but there is also something else.  Something dark blue but translucent.  Bucky wipes his lips and it gets on his hands.  Glancing lazily at his fingers, he licks the substance off.  With a small huff of laughter, Bucky gets to his feet.

Steve tries to move but his body is too heavy.  His vision is nothing but pinpoints.  He's going to pass out.

The last thing he sees is Bucky glancing down at him with a dismissive smile.

“Goodnight, Captain America.”

The suddenly, Bucky disappears, nothing but a bedside table in the place that he had just stood.

Steve drops into an entirely black and oppressive nothingness. 


	3. Sixteen Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter short chapter, so many short chapters in this story but I'm pretty much writing a little every day. Let me know what you think!

Steve’s been missing for nearly sixteen hours now.  He was supposed to be meet Peggy on the flight pad at 1300, but he never showed.  Dum Dum hasn’t seen him, nor have any of his men.  In fact, the last person to see him was Colonel Phillips at the debrief this morning.

“Well, wouldn’t be the first time that kid has disappeared _against_ orders,” Phillips had told Peggy dismissively.

Peggy wanted to argue, but she knew it was true.  Steve had a habit of going off on his own missions without permission.  Honestly, his military bearing could be atrocious at times.  But this felt different.  Usually, when Steve was going to go against orders, he was a bit of a drama queen about it, making needless speeches to _somebody_ about how he was justified.  And the days or at least hours before that he works himself into a frenzy.  But today he just…disappeared. 

It was too suspicious for Peggy to just let go.

So she’s in the Americans makeshift mess hall, ignoring the lingering eyes of the many teenage conscripts, pressing the Howling Commandos for information.

“I saw him at the bar last night with…someone kinda strange,” Sam pipes up suddenly.

The other men shoot Sam confused glances.  He huffs and reminds them how drunk they were.

“Strange how?” Peggy presses.

“Uhm…well, ma’am, he wasn’t wearing any shoes, for one.”

Peggy cocks her head.  It’s not necessarily unheard of.

“A…beggar?” Peggy asks.

Sam shakes his head.

“No, ma’am, I don’t think so.  He didn’t have a coat or anything on, but he sure didn’t look like a beggar.  Captain Rogers followed him to the back corner of the bar.  They talked for a few minutes and then Cap got real mad.  Shoved the table and stormed out of there.”

“Was he followed?” Dum Dum asks, suddenly leaning forward.

“I don’t think so,” Sam replies.  “I mean, the guy with no shoes stayed in the bar even after we left.  Right when we were leaving, this lady with red hair came in and joined him.”

“I remember her!” Juniper suddenly cries.  “She was a _babe_.”  He blushes, glancing up at Peggy.  “No offense, ma’am.”

But Peggy has gone quiet.  She bites her lip, struggling to withdraw a memory from her mind.

“Did this woman not wear shoes either?” Peggy asks.

“Oh I don’t know ma’am, I didn’t get a look at her feet,” Sam says sheepishly.

“Red hair,” Peggy mutters, mostly to herself.  “Green eyes?”

“Like sun shining through the leaves on a summer day,” Juniper sighs before blushing hard once again when his teammates turn to him with scrupulous looks.  He shifts in his seat.  “She was real mean though, shoved me right out of the way when she walked in.  I nearly fell to the floor.”

“Ah, Junior is in love,” Morita coos.

“Shut up,” Juniper grumbles. 

“Thank you, gentlemen, that will be all,” Peggy says briskly before turning to walk away.

She keeps walking, out the door and all the way across the square to the command offices.  She’s been provided a cramped room to act as an office.  Peggy suspects that it was once a broom closet, hastily transformed upon their arrival, but she doesn’t mind.  She doesn’t use it except to store boxes of folders and files, and her banged up typewriter.  She shuts the door behind her, swinging closes the newly installed latch on the inside, and begins to dig through water logged boxes.  Finally, she finds what she is looking for. 

Austria, 1938.  Three girls, all younger that five, had gone missing from their homes in the middle of the night.  It was one in a long string of abductions, spanning six countries.  Always girls under five, always in the middle of the night.  No clues.  No signs of breaking and entering or a struggle.  Just young girls missing from their beds in the morning, even when that bed was shared with their parents or their siblings.  Peggy had been sent to Austria to look for clues.  Prior to that, her gender had gotten her assigned to the filing offices.  She had been the one to connect the dots, and she had presented her findings to the Director with the insistence that she be the one to investigate.  He had conceded, it had been her first big break.

Peggy had picked up clues that nobody else had.  All it took was some extra lipstick and a trip to the local bar and the tipsy men with loose lips told her all about the red headed stranger who had come in three nights before.  The idiot men hadn’t found it strange or noteworthy that she had been asking about local children. 

“I don’t know, that’s just how broads talk.  Always baby crazy,” one man had slurred as he had tried to put his hand on Peggy’s leg.

“But the next night, children went missing.  You didn’t find that odd?”

The man had shrugged lazily.

“She was just a sweet little thing.  She counda taken those kids.”

Men can be truly stupid.

Peggy had tracked the red head to a train station.  The woman had been keen, noticed she was being followed, and lured Peggy into the cramped basement.  Peggy had had her gun, and her wits, but when she reached the bottom of the stairs, her memory goes blank.  Three days later, she woke up on a London park bench.

But Peggy was insistent, and she wasn’t about to be outsmarted on her first real assignment.  She did her research, she tracked the red head’s movements, and she intercepted her in Russia.  But this time she was ready.  She hadn’t been poisoned or knocked out the last time.  She hadn’t been loaded onto a ship or a plane and sent back to London.  She hadn’t fallen under the circumstances of any of the known laws of nature.

Peggy had done her research.  She had figured out what she was up against and she had armed herself with the appropriate weapons.

And there, at the bottom of the box in her cramped closet of an office was a small leather pouch.  Peggy picks it up, untying and upending it.  The smooth, greenish stone falls into her hand.  She had had the stone analyzed before.  The scientists were perplexed, they had no idea what it was.  Its properties were unpredictable.  Occasionally it would change shapes, or pulsate with warmth and light, or begin to vibrate for no real reason.  It had taken some convincing, but Dr. Addler was a personal friend, and he didn’t report his findings.

The old man who had given Peggy the stone hadn’t known where it had come from or even what it really was.  But he knew what it could do, who it could control.  And that was all that was important to Peggy at the time.  She didn’t need to know its origins to use it against her enemies. 

Peggy slides the stone back into the bag.  At the moment, it’s cold and perfectly round.  She loops the leather string over her neck and tucks the pouch under her shirt, against her chest. 

Peggy knows what she is up against, and at the moment she has the upper hand.  She can’t tell anybody.  The Colonel wouldn’t understand, and anybody else would either not believe her or start a ruckus, alerting Steve’s kidnapper to her suspicions. 

She grabs the photo from the open folder on the floor, folding it and sliding into her pocket.  On a worn envelope, Peggy quickly jots down a note, taping it to her desk before slipping out of her office and shutting the door behind her.

Against her chest, the stone begins to grow warm.


	4. Revelations

When Steve wakes, he’s certain that the serum has been stolen from him and he’s reverted back to his scrawny, sickly self.  His entire body aches, aches the way it used to ache when pneumonia would inescapably hit him in the dead of winter.  He tries to move but his body is just so _heavy_.  His head is pounding and he feels like he’s rocking back and forth, or spinning, like he had had too much to drink.  Memories are sluggish but the one clear picture he has is Bucky’s lips on his ear and the overwhelming sense of his heated skin against Steve’s.  Even feeling sick, Steve’s body is already aching for another taste.

There’s quiet conversation coming from the dark room that Steve finds himself in.  But his senses are numb.  His vision is blurry and he can’t make out much in the dim light.  And even when he tries to concentrate on the voices, the low hum in his ears prevents him from making out any words.

“Oh shit, is he awake?” a voice hisses, a little louder.  Just loud enough for Steve to know that it’s Bucky’s voice.  Steve’s stomach twists in an unsettling combination of lust and anger.

Steve tries to turn, tries to speak.  But his lips and tongue feel too large and uncoordinated, and all that comes out is garbled mumbling.

There’s a shuffling and by the dusty sunlight filtering in from an unseen window, Steve makes out Bucky’s face leaning over him.  Steve tries to sit upright, he wants to attack Bucky or at least stop him from touching him again, but all that happens is that his muscles spasm uncontrollably. 

“How is that possible?” Bucky asks the other unseen person in the room.

“The injections,” a woman’s bored voice replies.  “I assume that’s why the boss wants him.”

“Who…” Steve manages to slur.  “Who’r’you.”

“What should I do?” Bucky asks, ignoring Steve’s question and throwing a glance back into the dark.

An instant later, another face appears.  This one, a woman, with straight, shiny red hair that falls like a waterfall around her shoulders.  Her eyes are so green that they seem to glow, like a cat’s.  She glances down at Steve dismissively before pressing a finger to his forehead.

Steve lurches and tries to get away but he doesn't get far.  His body is still too heavy.  The green-eyed woman laughs, sharp and cruel.

“He’s not going anywhere,” she says and then both faces are gone.

The hushed conversation in the dark begins again, and Steve struggles to take control of his body.  It feels like hours, though it’s probably only a few minutes, but Steve eventually is able to maneuver himself onto his side.  He squints into the dark, repeating his question with all the air in his lungs.

“Who are you!” he wheezes, immediately out of breath.

Those green eyes are all that Steve can see in the shadows, and they blink up at him in anger.  But it’s Bucky who comes crawling out of the dark.  This time, when he leans over Steve, his silver eyes seems to be swirling like a tide pool, and it makes Steve dizzy.

“Shhh,” Bucky whispers, a hand coming up to stroke Steve’s face.  Steve wrenches away but it's useless.

“Don’touch me,” Steve mumbles, the sound of his voice far less threatening than he had hoped.

“We’re just going on a little trip.  It’s alright.  Go back to sleep, Stevie,” Bucky coos like he’s talking to a fussy baby.  When he pulls his hand away, there’s a shimmery blue substance attached to them.  Steve’s head feels too heavy to hold up anymore and it falls back with a thud.  Bucky licks his fingers as Steve pants, out of breath for no reason. 

“Stop,” Steve breathes. 

Bucky moves his hand towards Steve’s face once again but before he can touch him, a door across the room bursts open, filling the dank shadows with sunlight.  It’s blinding, too much for Steve’s aching eyes and he screws them shut. 

There’s a shout.  The woman, screaming at whoever has just burst in, followed by a thud and a clatter.  Bucky’s body twists as he goes to get to his feet but suddenly he makes a pained noise.  Steve squints up to see the outline of Bucky’s body, back arched as I he’s just been shot, but frozen in place.  Steve regrets opening his eyes because a moment later, an absolutely blinding silver light fills the room.  Steve squeezes his eyes shut.  The red headed woman is shouting again, in protest.  Another moment passes and then the light is gone and Bucky’s body crumples on top of Steve. 

There’s a struggle, some more thuds and objects clattering to the ground.  Footsteps pound across the room, past Steve.  And then he hears a voice he recognizes.

“Stop or I’ll throw it overboard,” Peggy shouts.

Steve cracks open his eyes.  An outline that he recognizes as Peggy’s stands by the small circular window across the room.  She holds her fist out the window and her eyes are set on someone else.  Steve follows her line of sight to the red headed woman who is crouched beside Bucky, a look of absolute hatred on her face as she glares at Peggy.  But the woman gets slowly to her feet and shrugs.

“Fine,” she says.  “Throw it.”

Peggy takes a slow breath through her nostrils before bringing her arm back inside and brandishing her closed fist at the other woman.

“Won’t work on me,” the red head sneers.

Peggy doesn’t falter.  She marches forward and crouches down on the other side of Steve.  The red head watches with a furrowed brow as Peggy presses something small and burning hot to Steve’s forehead.

With a sputtering gasp, Steve sits bolt upright.  The room around him spins momentarily as both Peggy and the other woman dive for Bucky’s motionless body.  The other woman reaches him first, but Peggy splays out across Steve’s body and gets one arm around Bucky’s neck, pressing whatever is in her palm to his temple with the other.

The moment is tense and heavy and Steve has no idea why.  He doesn’t move, even though his strength and his sense have suddenly returned tenfold, though the room still seems to be moving.  The two woman stare at each other.

“I’ll do it,” Peggy hisses.  “I know who you are.  I know _what_ you are.”

Actual fear passes through the other woman’s green eyes.  The once glowing orbs suddenly turn dull and sickly green.

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” the red head cries, tugging uselessly on Bucky’s body with what Steve knows can’t be her full strength.  “ _Please!_ ”

Peggy doesn’t budge.

“Peggy, what the hell is going on?!” Steve interjects.  Both women shoot him contemptuous looks.  But it’s the redhead that responds.

“She’s going to kill him if she uses that again.”

Her voice is strained and worried.

“Peggy!” Steve cries, trying to dislodge himself from under the pile of bodies.

“Steven, you have no idea what you are dealing with,” Peggy replies, not taking her eyes off the other woman as she chides Steve like a naughty child.

“If she kills him then we all die!” the other woman snaps, desperate eyes going to Steve. 

“What the hell is in your hand, Peg?” Steve demands.

“Where were you taking him?” Peggy asks the other woman, ignoring Steve.

“If you kill him, you’ll never find out.”

They stare each other down for a long while.  Finally, Steve hauls his body upward, disrupting both the women’s grips.  He gets an arm around Bucky’s chest and tugs him free.  Both women reel, scrambling to their feet and turning on Steve.  Steve blocks Bucky with his body, getting carefully onto his hands and knees.

“Tell me what the _fuck_ is going on,” Steve says slowly, eyes flitting between both of them.

The red head huffs, worried eyes fixated on Bucky’s prone form now. 

“If she puts that _fucking rock_ away then I’ll tell you,” the red head spits.

Peggy glowers for a moment before slowly putting whatever is in her hand into her pocket before holding up both empty palms in surrender.

The other woman moves so quickly that Steve is certain that it is instantaneous.  She’s wrapped herself around Peggy’s body and they both go crashing across the room.  Peggy lashes out, punching with one fist while the other gropes for her pocket.  But Steve can’t even get to his feet before they’re both suddenly beside the window, tipping backwards and then they’re gone.

Steve gets up and scrambles across the room.  There’s a splash below and when he looks out the circular window, he realizes suddenly that he’s on a ship.  Sea foam and bubbles mark the disrupted spot in the water where the two women must have hit, but there’s no sign of either of them surfacing.  Steve throws a glance back towards Bucky, but he is still motionless on the ground.  Without a second thought, Steve maneuvers himself through the porthole and dives into the water below.

It’s not very deep, the ship is still docked.  The force of entry alone sends Steve to the mushy bottom immediately.  The water is murky but he tries to find any sign of commotion.  An upheaval of sand alerts him and he swims towards the spot.

What he sees makes him swallow a mouthful of the foul water.

Peggy is pinned to the sandy bottom but she’s still kicking and fighting desperately.  On top of her is…something that makes Steve’s brain hurt to comprehend.  Fiery hair is the only sign that whatever is on top of Peggy was once the green eyed woman.  Now, though, her skin is an odd shimmery color and what once was her legs has been replaced by _a fucking fin_.

It’s hard to see in the murky water, but her body is also larger, longer, and somehow has more appendages than before.  The tattered remains of her clothes hang from her body.  And her now more sharply angled face is close to Peggy’s and she is snapping dozens of sharp _teeth,_ trying to gain purchase on Peggy’s skin as her webbed fingers search for whatever Peggy has in her pocket.

Ignoring the absolute wrongness of what Steve is seeing, he swims towards them, finally getting his arms around the monster’s neck.  She’s stronger and more comfortable in the water and she spins in Steve’s grip, scratching at him with claws.  She wriggles away from him, her skin now slick and smooth, difficult to grip.  Steve reaches for Peggy as the beast rounds on them in the water, circling like a shark.  And when she shoots back towards them for an attack, her hair has a more solid form and it flares out like the quills of the lionfish Steve once saw at the zoo.

Peggy grabs onto Steve weakly, turning them in the water and brandishing whatever her mystery weapon is towards their attacker.  Another blinding light, this time an orangish red.  Steve turns his head to shield his eyes and when he looks up again, the monster is gone, replaced by the human looking red head, floating towards the muddy bottom. 

Steve pushes off and brings Peggy to the surface.  She sputters, weak and out of breath, and Steve swims on his back, pulling Peggy along with him towards the dock.  He hauls himself out of the water and begins to fret over Peggy but she waves a dismissive hand.

“Go get her,” she pants before glancing back up at the ship they had all fallen out of.  “Meet me back where the other one is.”

Steve runs a hand down Peggy’s wet hair, but she brushes him away.

“I’m fine, Steve.  _Go_.”

Steve nods and dives back into the water.


	5. It's a trap!

When Bucky finally wakes, there’s a familiar weakness in his body that makes him panic.  He tries to move but realizes that he’s been restrained, which only makes his terror peak.

“Will you stop thrashing?” Nat hisses at him, and Bucky realizes that he’s been tied to her, back to back.

“What’s happening?” Bucky asks, trying to keep the fear out of his voice but failing.

This is all far too familiar.

Nat doesn’t reply, but she doesn’t have to.  Bucky senses movement to his left and he squints into the dark to see two forms seated against the opposite wall.

“The bitch has one of those rocks,” Nat grumbles, shifting slightly against the tight restraints. 

“No,” Bucky gasps, twisting uselessly.  “No, she can’t.  They’re gone.  He promised they’re gone.”

Nat just huffs sardonically but doesn’t say a word.

Across the room, Bucky watches Captain Rogers getting to his feet.  But the woman with him grabs his arm.  She gets up as well, pushing Rogers back towards the wall and saying something in a low voice that Bucky can’t make out.

The familiar swaying of the floor beneath him tells Bucky that they are still on the ship and that the ship has left the dock.  It makes him grow even colder.

The woman disappears into the dark.  Through the porthole, Bucky can see that it is night out, but with the life stone around, he can’t see where the woman is going.  She returns a moment later, dragging an unsteady wooden chair behind her.  She brings it to rest in front of them, sitting in it and crossing her legs properly, smoothing her skirt down as she goes.

“What are you going to do to us?” Bucky asks shakily.  Nat jerks behind him and he knows that she wants him to shut up.  But his panic is still rising to the point that it’s becoming overwhelming. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” the woman replies calmly.  Nat snorts in disbelief.  The woman glances over her shoulder.  “Neither does Captain Rogers.”

Bucky cranes his neck to see where Rogers is standing nervously in the corner, watching them.

“I’m Agent Carter.  _I_ work for the Allies.  I want to know who you work for.  But I’m guessing you’re not friends.”

“You think I don’t remember you?” Nat replies.  Bucky twists a bit, but he obviously isn’t going to be able to reach an angle with which he can catch his partner’s eyes.  “I know who you are.”

“Yes, I remember you too,” Peggy says almost sweetly.  “Kidnapping all of those girls.  But you got away before I could get a clear answer from you last time.  That won’t happen again.  So tell me who you work for.”

The Red Room.  If the mention of it makes Nat nervous, Bucky can’t tell.  But she’s always been excellent at hiding her true emotions.

“We work for ourselves, for our own freedom,” Nat snaps.

“Freedom from who?” Steve asks quietly from the corner.

“We’re not _talking_ to you.  We aren’t telling you anything,” Nat replies coolly, leaning her head back against Bucky’s.

Heavy footsteps and then Steve is standing behind Carter. 

“What they hell are you?” he asks, voice hushed for no reason.  When he gets no reply, his hands move wildly.  “You-you-you-you’re a _fucking mermaid!_ ”

Nat laughs again.

“Sure.  Mermaid,” Nat says, head still leaned back.

Carter turns to look up at Steve, brow pinched.

“No, not mermaids, Steve.  Shape shifters,” Carter corrects calmly. 

“That’s not…” Steve mumbles.

“Possible?” Nat offers casually.  “You’re right.  It’s not.”

Steve retreats back to his corner, rubbing his forehead.  Carter sighs and fixes her gaze on Nat and Bucky again.

“Who are you trying to be free from?” Carter asks again.  “Why did you take Captain Rogers?”

Nat remains silent and Bucky follows her lead.

“Look, we have a six day journey ahead of us on this ship,” Carter points out.  “At the end of those six days, I can throw this stone into the ocean.  Or, I can turn it over to the authorities, along with you.”

Bucky grinds his teeth and bites his tongue, trying not to let himself be pulled even further into nightmarish memories.

“I don’t mean to threaten-“ Carter begins.

“Well, you are,” Nat snaps, interrupting her.

Carter takes another measured breath and starts again.

“I don’t mean to threaten.  I want to help you, but you need to answer my questions.”

Nat begins to laugh, low and slightly unhinged. 

“Agent Carter, is it?” Nat hisses.  “I’ve been alive for over two _thousand_ years.  And _that_ is the lie that I have been told most often by your kind.”  She pauses, but Carter doesn’t reply.  “You don’t want to hurt us.  Right.  Well, I can promise you this, we can sit here in silence, and maybe you won’t hurt us.  Maybe you turn us over to whatever authority that you think can handle us.  And you can give them your little rock too.  But we have nothing but time.  And eventually, just like every time before, just like the last time you and I met, eventually someone will slip up.  You can’t keep that artifact in the same room as us forever.  And then minute it’s gone, so are we.”

Carter seems to think for a moment.  Calmly, she uncrosses her legs and gets to her feet, putting her hands up in surrender. 

“Very well, then,” she says.

She turns her back on them and walks back across the room to Rogers.  They have a quick, heated exchange in low voices before Carter pulls a leather pouch from around her neck and hangs it carefully on a wooden peg.  Carter and Rogers both begin for the door.

The galley door swings open and a uniformed sailor goes to attention.  Carter speaks to him in the same low voice.  He nods, salutes, and then steps inside.

Just before the door swings shut, Bucky sees Rogers glance over his shoulder.  Their eyes meet.  It makes Bucky’s head throb, but he reaches out to the blonde before fixing the most helpless look possible on his face.  Steve falters a bit, but then the door is closed, and Bucky and Nat are left with nobody but the suspicious American seaman who shoves cotton into his ears and settles into the seat before them.

 

 

 

 

 

Steve wakes from a dream, drenched in sweat, sitting up so fast that he hits his head on the low ceiling of his cramped sleeping quarters.  He has felt absolutely wired ever since Peggy had pressed that stone to his forehead and had been certain that he wouldn’t sleep. But as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out.

He can’t remember the dream he was having, though he can remember silver eyes and the scent of lavender and sea salt.  He doesn’t think it was a pleasant dream though.  Confusion tainting whatever pleasantries there might have been.  He has far more questions than he has answers, and Peggy had been tight lipped when she had told him cryptically to “get some sleep while you still can.”  Steve doesn’t think he’s been asleep long, though he certainly feels energized.  A quick glance out the porthole confirms his suspicions, because the sun still isn’t up.

Steve pulls on some clothes and decides to get some answers from Peggy.  He hasn’t spent very much time on naval vessels _at all_ and he quickly gets lost in the maze.  Eventually, though, he makes it on deck.  The night watch is out, but nobody else is and Steve realizes that he has no idea where Peggy is.

There’s a nagging in the back of his head, though, and a feeling in his gut like there’s a rope around his stomach, pulling him back below.  He tries to ignore it and decides to take a few laps around the deck to get out some of this energy. 

It doesn’t help and the sun still isn’t coming up.  Hunger hits him like a train and he realizes that it’s been at least a day since his last meal.  He knows exactly where the galley is, but he also knows exactly what is in the attached storage room.  A war rages in his head for a few moments, but finally, his stomach wins.

He’ll just have to keep his bearings about him.

Not that that ever works for Steve Rogers.

The closer Steve gets to the galley, the more insistent the hum at the back of his head becomes, and the harder that pull in his stomach gets.  When there is nothing but a wall and a metal door between him and Bucky, it becomes almost too much to bear.  He scarfs down some food as fast as he can.  But just as he gets quickly to his feet to leave, he hears it.

It’s a soft sob.  A whimper, and then a quiet, “please, don’t.”  Steve is moving towards the door before he even realizes it, throwing it open and barreling in like an elephant.

The redhead, still tied up, is unconscious on the ground by the door.  The body of the seaman blocks Steve’s view, but he can hear the soft pleas from the corner.  Steve practically runs forward, grabbing the man by the collar and throwing him to the ground.

The sailor blinks up at Steve confused.  In his hand is the leather pouch.  And huddled in the corner, arms and legs still tied, shirt torn open, is Bucky.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Steve shouts at the sailor.

The man looks around as if he doesn’t know where he is.  But Bucky has started sobbing.  He’s staring up at Steve with wide, shining eyes.

“Please, help me,” Bucky sobs.

Steve’s not moving of his own volition anymore.  He grabs the leather pouch from the man’s hands, shoving it into his pocket before shouting at him to leave.  The man scrambles to his feet and out the door in an instant.  Steve pulls a knife from his boots and cuts the binds from Bucky’s hands and feet.  Immediately, Bucky throws his arms around Steve, sobbing into his shoulder.

“He-he was going to-“ Bucky babbles against Steve’s shirt. 

Slowly, Steve raises his arms to hug Bucky’s body to him.  In his head, alarms are going off.  He knows that he shouldn’t have released him.  He knows that he tried to kidnap Steve.  He knows that he is in possession of some sort of otherworldly power.  But he can’t stop himself from trying to comfort Bucky.  Bucky shudders but begins to mutter his thanks, pulling back to look Steve in the eye.

Tears stream down Bucky’s face and Steve can’t help it, he reaches up to wipe them away.  Bucky’s hands come around and frame Steve’s face, holding his gaze so intensely that Steve feels suddenly naked, exposed.

“I’ll tell you everything,” Bucky whispers.

Steve nods like an idiot.  “Okay,” he breathes back.

Bucky gets slowly to his feet, one hand interlacing with Steve’s.  Slowly, he leads him back through the door.


	6. Addictive

Bucky’s not used to having to duck security, but with the stone not a foot away, he has no choice but to drag Steve deeper into the ship, away from anyone who might be on watch.  But even with the stone around his neck, Steve is putty in Bucky’s hands.  Bucky keeps a tight grip on Steve, pulling him along until they reach a small mechanical room. 

Unfortunately, Steve tugs out of Bucky’s grip when Bucky turns to close the heavy metal door, taking large steps backwards and out of Bucky’s reach.

“Talk,” Steve demands.

Bucky decides on an angle before turning to slide down the wall, dropping his head in his hands.  He works up some tears before looking up at Steve with a strained face.

“Human are always like this,” he says, hitching his voice a bit.  “There’s only one thing that they want from me.” 

That’s not entirely a lie.

Predictably, Steve’s face softens.  He takes a few steps closer and drops to his knees.

“What are you?” Steve asks gently.

Bucky drops his face into his hands again.  Steve is too far away to touch, and that stone is making Bucky feel sick.  When Bucky looks up, his face is even more pained and he moves forward to crawl towards Steve.

The bastard’s caught onto his game though, and Steve gets quickly to his feet to move out of Bucky’s reach.

“I haven’t forgotten what you did to me,” Steve whispers, voice unnecessarily low.

Bucky can’t help himself.  His act drops for just a moment and he cocks his head.

“Why do you always whisper when there’s nobody around?” Bucky asks.

As if the very mention of privacy might summon people into the room, Steve glances around nervously.  Bucky moves back to the wall, leaning against it again.  Steve’s face is pinched when he looks back at Bucky.

“It’s wrong,” Steve says, voice a little bit louder even though Bucky can tell that it’s mainly himself he’s trying to convince.

“What is?” Bucky presses just because he can.

Steve sighs, strained, hands moving wildly.  He drops suddenly back to the ground, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking back up at Bucky.

“What-what we did,” Steve replies finally, voice going quiet again.

“Sex?” Bucky asks, unable to help a small grin.

“ _That_ wasn’t sex.  I don’t know what the hell you did to me.  But, yes.”

Bucky muses or a moment.

“You humans and your rules.  They make no sense.  You all break them, but then you pretend that you didn’t.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” Steve snaps, patience growing thin.

Bucky just smiles and leans back on the wall.

“You did something to me,” Steve accuses.  “To-to-to _make me_ -“

“Hey!” Bucky interrupts.  “I didn’t _make_ you do anything.”

“Yes you did!  I would never have-if…if-if you hadn’t put some sort of spell on me!”

“I’m not a fucking wizard, Steve.”

“Well then tell me what you are!”

Bucky pauses and just watches Steve for a moment.  So far, this encounter hasn’t gone as planned.  Bucky knows that Steve is smart.  He could taste it on him, even in the dream.  He should have known that he wouldn’t fall for the same tricks twice. 

“I can’t _create_ desire, Steve,” Bucky says slowly.  “I can only manipulate it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Steve snaps.

“ _It means_ that if you weren’t attracted to me, I would have no effect on you.”

Steve’s mouth shuts so fast that his teeth clack together.

“That’s…not true,” Steve breathes.

Bucky just chuckles, he can’t help himself.  It’s not mean-spirited.  It’s just…something about this human.  Steve is looking at Bucky helplessly, pleadingly.  Bucky’s gotten plenty of helpless looks before.  Men who are in so much denial that their attraction to Bucky causes them actual pain.  But somehow the way Steve is looking at him is different.  There’s no malice behind the stare, no accusations. 

“Nat has no effect on you,” Bucky points out.

It takes Steve a moment to realize what Bucky is saying, but his brow furrows.

“I like women,” Steve blurts out, again sounding more like he’s trying to convince himself.  Bucky chuckles again.  “I do!  I-I like Peggy!” Steve insists.

“It’s not mutually exclusive, Steve,” Bucky replies.  He sighs, rubbing his face.  “I hate trying to explain this to humans.”

Steve spasms a bit where he is sitting, uncomfortable and clearly trying to figure out a response.  But nothing comes.  It’s almost cute, and Bucky catches himself smiling, which only seems to frustrate the good Captain more.

“Come on, Steve.  That dream that you had about me?”

“I _knew_ you did that!” Steve practically shouts.  Bucky rolls his eyes.

“I can visit your dreams, but I can’t control them.  That was all you, Captain Rogers.  I was just there.  Whatever happened next, well…”  Bucky thinks back to the dream.  “Nice apartment, Brooklyn?  Though I was disappointed that your marvelous red, white and blue costume didn’t make an appearance.” 

“Stop that,” Steve snaps.

“Your buttons are too easy to push,” Bucky sighs, almost fondly.

Steve huffs angrily, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up in odd angles. 

“Fine.  Fine,” Steve mutters.  “Whatever happened…happened.  But…why me?”

“Oh, come on, Steve.  You’re smarter than that,” Bucky replies immediately.  “You’re Captain fucking America!  The only successful trial of that special serum you have in your veins.”

“Who sent you?  And what do they want with me?”

Bucky sighs, glancing down at his hands.

“I don’t know the answer to either of those questions.”  And that’s the truth.

Steve scoffs.

“I’m serious.  I don’t know!” Bucky insists.  “And I can’t tell you anything else.  I’ve said too much already.”

“You said you would tell me everything!” Steve cries.

Bucky levels Steve with an incredulous look.  If the man hasn’t figured out what is happening already, then maybe he’s not as smart as Bucky had thought.

But a moment later, Steve sputters, jumping to his feet.  Bucky can’t help but laugh again.

“You’re just now realizing that you left Nat in that room alone, without that pretty little rock?” Bucky teases.

Steve lunges towards Bucky menacingly, but Bucky doesn’t move.

“It was a trick!” Steve accuses.

“Of course it was a trick, Steve.  Human men only think with their cocks.  I’ve been alive far too long to not have realized that.  And, well…you know what they say about the Navy.”  Bucky winks at Steve.

Steve sputters again, reaching down to grab Bucky by the arm and haul him to his feet.

“You sure you want to touch me, Steve?” Bucky asks, letting himself be dragged along.  “Nat’s already gone, I can promise you that.  That idiot didn’t know what the stone was.  I just told him to grab it off the wall.  He didn’t know how to use it.  And, well, you know what I can do with skin on skin contact.” 

To emphasize his point, Bucky reaches a hand up towards Steve’s face.  But Steve bats it away and recoils, releasing his grip on Bucky’s arm.  Steve fidgets as he decides what to do.

“You’re coming with me,” he commands seriously.

“Even if you knew how to use that stone against me, Nat’s already gone.  And,” Bucky grabs hold on Steve’s mind with his own, slowly pushing his torn shirt the rest of the way off of his body.  Steve is frozen eyes darting around Bucky’s exposed skin.  Bucky steps closer, putting them chest to chest, “instead of running off, wouldn’t you rather spend your time down here, with me?”

Steve puts both hands on Bucky’s chest and shoves.  But it’s weak, and Bucky is only pushed back a step.

“I’m _addictive_ , Steve, and you’ve already had a taste.”  Bucky pitches his voice low.  “I know you want more.  And I want to give it to you.”

“Stop,” Steve whispers, but Bucky knows that he’s already been Mesmerized. 

Bucky takes a slow step forward, closing the space between them again and running his hands up Steve’s side.  He leans in.  The energy is already pulsing off of Steve’s body in waves and Bucky pushes closer, trying to get as much as he can.  Steve’s life force is so strong, so _potent_ , and so much more delicious than most.  It’s true that Bucky is addictive, but it might also be true that Steve is addictive himself.  And at the moment, his energy is mixed with Bucky’s own stolen energy, which is somehow more enticing.

“Come on, Stevie.  I want you to.”  Bucky cocks his head, eyes moving up and the body before him.  He’s seen Steve naked.  The man is practically Adonis.  And Bucky should know, he’d met Adonis.  “I like you.”  And that’s another statement that isn’t entirely a lie. 

Steve licks his lips before chewing on the bottom corner of his mouth.  The move is actually enticing, so Bucky moves in even closer, slowly putting his arms around Steve’s neck and pressing his chest against the other man’s.

“I know you want this,” Bucky whispers in Steve’s ear before taking the soft flesh into his lips and sucking lightly.  Steve’s whole body shivers and Bucky relishes it.  “I know you want me.  You _need_ more.  You’ll _always_ need more.”

Steve shudders a sigh, leaning back to look at Bucky with hooded eyes, pupils blown.  Bucky leans in.  His hands run through Steve’s messy blonde hair and down his neck, brushing against the leather cord there.  Bucky’s lips meet Steve’s waiting mouth as he hooks a finger through the cord.

The door behind them is thrown open.  Metal hits metal hard and it’s loud enough to shake Steve out of his trance.  Steve lurches in Bucky’s arms.

“Steve!” Carter shouts.

Shit.

Steve shoves Bucky away, hard this time.  His blue eyes are wide and darting about and Bucky turns to find not only Carter, but three sailors with guns and shocked expressions.  Carter huffs, turning and snapping at the sailors to get to the galley storage room _now_.  They exchange looks but eventually do as she says.  Carter marches forward, palm immediately going to Steve’s chest.  Steve recoils at the touch, his head in his hands, but allows Carter to snatch the pouch from around his neck.  

Carter sighs, giving Steve a disappointed look.  For his part, Steve looks absolutely _miserable_ , and Bucky actually feels kinda _bad_.

“Peggy,” Steve tries, voice broken, refusing to meet her eyes. 

But then Carter puts her palm back onto Steve’s chest and holds it there until the man looks up at her.

“It’s alright, Steve.”  She shoots an accusatory glance at Bucky.  “It’s what they do.”

Carter turns sharply and rounds on Bucky, hands untying the clasp on the pouch.

“No,” Bucky whispers.  She’s got the stone in her hand.  He doesn’t know if he could survive being drained right now, he’s so weak from last time.  “Please don’t!”

From behind Carter, Steve finally looks up.  But Carter has her hand around Bucky’s wrist and the stone is pulsating green light.

“It’ll kill me!” Bucky shouts.

A hand lands on Carter’s shoulder.  Carter huffs a sigh.

“Don’t believe his lies, Steve,” she snaps.

Bucky’s eyes meet Steve’s.

“He isn’t lying.  Don’t-…don’t do whatever you’re going to do.”

Carter falters and relief fills Bucky immediately.  She releases him and glances back at Steve.

“You owe me answers, Peggy,” Steve says seriously.  He shoots Bucky a contemptuous look.  It actually hurts Bucky a bit.  “ _He’s_ not giving me any.”

“Fine,” Carter sighs.  But then she fixes Bucky with a serious look.  The stone goes back into the pouch, which goes back around Carter’s neck.  “But your little girlfriend had gone missing, I’m afraid,” Carter says, fussing with a messenger bag at her waist.  “So I guess it’s just going to have to be you and me.”

She yanks something from her bag.  Nimble, she spins Bucky around and he hears the click of cuffs being locked into place.  The next moment, something rough is dragged down his face.  A fucking burlap bag.

“Going somewhere secret are we?” Bucky asks with forced glee.

“Oh no,” Carter replies.  “Not at all, love.  You’re just not going to look Steve in the eye, ever again.”

Bucky chuckles, low and maliciously.

“I suppose we’ll see about that.”


	7. Fairy Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the positive comments! They really do help motivate me to write more. I'll try to have another chapter done by the end of the day, if not tomorrow. Enjoy!

Nat wonders if they think that she is going to leave Bucky.  The very thought of it ludicrous.  Nat has been alive for a long time.  So long, that sometimes, whole decades fade from memory.  But the only thing she has ever been certain of is Bucky.

Bucky is everything to Nat.  Even when they were separated, for all of those centuries that passed, they were the only thing that mattered to each other.  They were lucky, even given the lives they had lead in the servitude of their captors.  Most pairs had been separated.  Their enemies had caught on quickly.  They had tortured and beaten and starved their tribesmen until they had been able to suss out pairs.  They had found increasingly inventive ways to slowly kill them while their partners watched, eyelids sewn open and head screwed onto plates so that they couldn’t look away. 

To live without your partner, without your soulmate was torture beyond anything the humans could invent in dank basement cells.  A broken bond was agony and nothing could ever repair it.  Humans are born alone.  They live alone, and they die alone.  Even if they mate, even if they claim to have a “soulmate” with whom they live with their entire lives, in the end, they face judgement alone.  But not so for Bucky and Nat and all the others like them.  Two parts of one whole, inseparable from the other.  For Nat to lose Bucky would be akin to having half of her body removed.  Nothing would ever be the same.  They had been created together, they had been bonded their entire lives, and if one dies, they wait in darkness for the other, because they must face judgement together. 

And the humans had absolutely no concept of that.  Nat’s been around them long enough to know that their relationships are arbitrary, quickly tossed aside for any number of reasons.  Even the good ones, the ones who mean well, are ready to sacrifice themselves if it means that the other lives.  But to Nat and to Bucky, there would be no decision.  It’s either both of them, or neither of them.

Nat would never leave Bucky.  They had already lived so very many years of their lives separated, their bond a plaything for their masters who used it to keep them in line.  Nat had him back and she would never leave him again.  They were being given another chance.  All they had to do was bring Captain America, and the Sunken City would be restored.  And Bucky and Nat would be allowed to be together for eternity, the way that they were created to be.  They were so close that Nat could taste it.  They had been given a second chance, and Nat would never lose Bucky again.

So of course Nat isn’t going to leave the ship.  Carter is smart, and Nat knows that.  Maybe even and even match for her.  And maybe Carter knows that Nat would never leave without Bucky, or maybe she doesn’t.  All Nat knows is that Carter is the only thing standing in her way between her and freedom.

Nat’s never particularly liked hunting.  That was always Bucky’s forte.  Of course, she had been forced to hunt by her various masters throughout the years, and she had gotten quite good.  But it didn’t mean that she liked the taste.  Men, _especially_ American men, usually tasted like something between dirt and dust.  Their life force was usually brown and murky and hard to swallow down.  Occasionally, a poet or a painter would pleasantly surprise Nat, but poets and painters were in short supply on a naval vessel.  Nat was weak, and she would have to make do. 

She tears off the gods awful wool shirt that somebody, probably the soft hearted, shy sensibilities, too big for his own good Captain America had put on her for modesty’s purpose.  Modesty, what a joke.  Humans think that covering her breasts make them modest, but will do far worse behind closed doors and walk away with a clean conscious because the neighbors didn’t see her naked.

Nat waits in the bowels of the ship, moving from hiding place to hiding place as the ship is searched.  She waits for silence and, even though the entire crew is on high alert, she knows that the one place they probably won’t bother to look is the place she had just escaped.  So she makes her way to the galley.  A lone man sits in a metal chair that is bolted to the floor, his spoon stopping halfway to his mouth when he spots Nat’s naked form leaning against the circular frame of the door.

“Hey there, sailor,” Nat purrs. 

The weak minded ones are the easiest to seduce, but they hardly provide much nourishment.  His life force tastes like swamp water, but Nat drains him anyway.  She gags a bit when she tosses him aside.  She drags his body with her into the storage room, hitting him hard in the head with the door for good measure.

Nat shimmies through the same porthole she had gone through not four hours before.  Being back in the water is like baptism.  She’s not an idiot.  She had checked the vessel’s log before she ever boarded.  Nat knows where this ship is headed, and she also knows what other vessels are in the area.  And she has a far easier time orienting herself to her exact location in the water than on land. 

The humans who stand in her way are doomed.  Two hours, that’s how long it will take for her to return.  Two hours before she ravages this ship like the hellish creature that she is.  

 

 

 

As Steve follows Peggy through the narrow corridors of the ship, he’s sweating through his thin t-shirt.  Every few minutes, he makes to say something, but Peggy shushes him harshly every time, shooting him serious glances and nodding at Bucky’s hooded head.

“He wants to apologize for what you saw,” Bucky finally pipes up after a few minutes of strained silence.  Peggy jostles him in retaliation, but it only makes him laugh.  Steve’s furious blush just grows impossibly warmer.

They finally reach the captain’s quarters.  The captain himself is lounging in the first room, a quickly cooling breakfast on the table in front of him.  When he spots Peggy, he jumps to his feet.

“Agent Carter,” he says slowly, eyeing Bucky cautiously.

“Captain, we are going to need use of your quarters for a few hours,” Peggy replies smartly.  The captain sputters and begins to reply, but Peggy just nods at him.  “Thank you, please lock the door behind you.  Nobody in or out, please.”

The captain watches Peggy with a furrowed brow and looks as if he might say something.  He looks at Steve for help, but Steve just shrugs and the captain finally rubs his forehead and scoops up his uniform top and leaves the room slowly as if waiting for an explanation.  He doesn’t get one though, and the moment the door locks behind him, Peggy shoves Bucky across the lounge and into the bedroom, slamming the door for good measure.  Finally, she turns to Steve and gives him a look as if you say, “go ahead.”

“Peggy!” Steve practically whines.  “I’m-I’m so sorry.  I don’t…I don’t know what I was thinking.  And-and-“

Peggy holds up a hand and Steve’s mouth snaps shut.

“It’s alright, Steve.  It’s what they do.”

“No, no, Peggy.  I know how it must have looked but-and I know that this isn’t the time, but I have to tell you-…I-I _love you_ , Peggy.”

Peggy’s shocked face is replaced by one of slight amusement.

“Steven, this is hardly the time,” she replies gently.  “Besides, I am still your superior officer.  So, for the time being, please keep those kinds of confessions to yourself.”

Steve balks and tries to figure out what to say, but Peggy is moving across the room, towards one of the bolted down loungers.  She settles into it, still perfectly lady-like as she gives Steve a tired look and gestures to the seat across from her.  Steve paces for a short moment before finally flinging himself into the chair.

“You said I owe you an explanation about what we’re up against, and I do,” Peggy begins slowly.  “They’re not…human, though I suppose you already know that.”

“What are they?” Steve asks as calmly as he can manage.

“Well, the research I did on them the last time I faced the woman, isn’t exactly clear,” Peggy continues, cocking her head.  “Plenty of different names.  Sirens, succubi, fin folk, kelpie, demons, shape shifters.”

“Those things…aren’t real,” Steve says slowly.  Peggy just laughs.

“Come now, Steven.  Knowing what we face in Hydra, are we in any position to make definitive statements about what is and isn’t real?”

“I guess not,” Steve replies quietly.

“The first record that I could find of them were Ancient Greek texts.  Most were works of literature.  Poems, epics, legends, folk lore.  But there was one particular case.  A Greek senator was asked to enlist the help of several scientists, scholars and _hunters_ because a significant portion of a town _disappeared_ overnight.  The village was beside a large lake on the outskirts of Thebes.  Nearly every person between the ages of fifteen and twenty five had gone missing.  The villagers claimed that they had been kidnapped by the fin folk who lived at the bottom of the lake, taken as slaves.  The lake was too deep, they didn’t have anything that could reach the bottom.  But the handful of witnesses claimed that they had seen people emerging from the water, seducing the young people in the town, draining them of their souls and then dragging them back into the water.”

Peggy pauses and adjusts her skirt, taking a deep breath.

“Nobody ever returned.  However, in that same village, three hundred years later, the same thing happened.  I tracked the pattern, and similar instances occurred near deep lakes and towns near the shore of oceans and seas.  There’s conflicting reports and ideas of _what_ exactly what was happening, but they always mentioned people emerging from the water, luring young people to them, seducing them, and then bringing them to the water, never to be seen again.”

“So-…so you think they want me to be their slave?” Steve asks doubtfully.

“Oh no, not at all,” Peggy chuckles.  “You see, around 400 AD, the reports of such disappearances stop.  I was able to find an obscure Christian text from the time period which spoke to the ‘Destruction of the Pagan Succubus and other Demeons.’  You see, some cultures worshipped these creatures, thought of them as water gods, had elaborate ceremonies for choosing their ‘servants.’  These cultures thought that if they did this, they would be blessed with good weather, less flooding, larger harvests of fish, among other things.  The rise of Christianity saw this as a threat and dispatched thousands of soldiers and priests to rid the world of these beings, they thought of them as demons, as minions of Satan himself.”

Peggy stops and gives Steve a serious look.  She doesn’t continue.

“Is that it?” Steve asks.

“That’s all the literature that I could find on them.  However, when young girls started going missing around Europe at the beginning of the war, I tracked the culprit.  It turned out to be our red-headed friend.  After our initial…encounter, I did this research to try and suss out exactly what I was up against.  After our second encounter, I discovered that these creatures were not only still alive, but they were _working for_ several renowned organizations across the globe, disappearing their enemies or others that these organizations needed.  I have a feeling,” Peggy pauses, taking a deep breath and settling a serious look on Steve, “that our new friends are currently in the employ of Hydra, sent to bring you and the serum in your veins to Hydra so that they can produce super soldiers of their own.”

“So what is that stone?”

Peggy pauses, pulling the leather pouch from her pocket and dumping the now rectangular stone into her hand.

“I don’t know exactly what it is, but I know what it does,” she says, eyes on the stone.  “These creatures are able to feed on the life energy of humans.  They can drain a person of their…energy.   These rocks are used to control them.  I don’t know how many there are, but they are able to drain the energy of these beings and transfer it to a human.  The man who I got it from had been given it by a cardinal on his death bed.  The cardinal was over _three hundred_ years old.  He had stayed alive so long by sending one of these creatures in his employ to drain the life from young people and transfer it to himself using the stone.  It makes them weak, takes away many of their abilities.  These beings can harness some sort of magical power, and this stone drains them of that, along with their life force.  It’s how their…employers control them.  Being near the stone makes the weak, the larger the stone, the weaker they become.  A scientist friend of mine examined the stone, and it’s not made of any known material.”

Steve takes a moment to process the information.  It makes his head ache a little bit.

“Bucky…James, told me that he’s addictive?  What does that mean?” Steve asks.

Peggy gives him a queer look.

“I don’t know.  That’s not anything that I’ve heard before.”

Steve nods numbly.

“So what’s the plan?” Steve asks slowly, staring at his hands.

“Well…the first thing we need to do is prepare.  I’m certain that the woman-“

“Nat,” Steve interrupts. 

Peggy gives him another look before continuing. 

“…that…Nat…will be returning for the other one.  I don’t know how much time we have but, I’m going to interrogate…James.”

Steve nods.

“Alright, let’s do it,” he says, getting to his feet.

“No, not you,” Peggy replies matter-of-factly. 

“Why not?”

“Steve, you clearly have a weak spot for this creature.  He’s _using_ you.  I think I ought to speak to him alone.  And I won’t hear any protest about that, you know that I’m right.”

Steve takes a shaky breath, dry washing his face.  He knows he can’t argue, he knows that Peggy is right.

“Fine,” he sighs.  “Just…don’t hurt him.”

Peggy gives him a soft look, frowning slightly.  She gets to her feet and puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Please, Captain, I’m a lady.”

To make her point, she straightens her blouse and pushes stray hairs behind her ear.  Steve swallows.  Guilt fills him when he realizes how large a part of him is yearning to go into that other room.  But he grinds his teeth and roots his feet to the spot.

“Go get something to eat, Steve.  And then make sure that the crew is on high alert.  Like I said,” Peggy glances at the stone still in her hand, “we don’t know when she’ll be back.  And when she does, they’ll be coming for you.”

Reluctantly, Steve nods and turns towards the door.  He pauses, giving Peggy another long look.

“Good luck, ma’am.”

 

 


	8. Infiltration

“That was a great story,” Bucky says when he hears the door shut behind Peggy.  “Almost entirely true too.”

Bucky tracks Carter with his ears.  She moves through the room on light feet, and Bucky can feel when she gets close to him.  She still has the stone on her.  Bucky squirms where he’s leaned against something solid, but it doesn’t get any less uncomfortable.  His hands fell asleep at least ten minutes ago.

“Oh really,” Peggy says, coming to a stop a few feet in front of Bucky.  “So why don’t you tell me what parts I got wrong?”

“Well, you’re wording was off,” Bucky says with a dry laugh.  “You kept saying ‘employ.’  But, if I’m not mistaken, employment involves some kind of payment for services?”  He laughs again, darker this time.  “I can guarantee you there was no payment.  I think the word you are looking for is ‘slavery.’”

“Slavery,” Peggy repeats.  “And who, might I ask, enslaved you?”

“I know you didn’t come in here for my autobiography,” Bucky replies coolly. 

“So I was right about what you want with Captain Rogers?” Peggy asks immediately. 

Bucky can’t help himself from laughing again.

“I don’t want anything with ‘ _Captain Rogers._ ’  You know, he asked the same thing; ‘what do you want with me?’”  He pitches his voice low in imitation and shakes his head but he doubts that Carter can see it.  “Humans always want to feel like they’re in control of things, like to know what’s going on and why.  I don’t know who wants Steve and I don’t know why.”

“Then _why_ are you trying to kidnap him?”

“I’ll tell you what I told him—I just want a friend,” Bucky replies, trying to sound coy.

“Then you know that neither of us believe that,” Carter snaps, sounding particularly British.

“Yeah and you also both know that I’m not telling you anything.  And if you and everyone on board this ship wants to live, then I suggest you let me go.”

“So your friend is coming back for you,” Peggy concludes.

“No, I just have a really great plan for escape,” Bucky lies, wondering if Peggy can hear it in his voice.

“You’d kill everyone on board?”

“Personally?  No, of course not,” Bucky replies immediately.  “I don’t particularly care what happens to any of you.  I just want to go home.  I’m sure you and Captain Rogers would like to go home one day too.  And to do that, you’d need this ship to be functional.  If you know what I am, then you know that I know exactly where we are.”  Peggy doesn’t say anything, so Bucky continues.  “Let’s see, latitude 46.248250, longitude - 25.488281. How long do you think you’ll be adrift before a U-boat finds you?”

Peggy still stays silent and Bucky grins to himself even though he knows Peggy can’t see it.

“You think that I’m trapped here with you, Agent Carter,” Bucky continues darkly.  “You think that I’m your prisoner.  But has it occurred to you that it might be the other way around?”  Still silence from Carter.  Bucky’s grin widens.  “You forget that _I_ was the one who chose this particular ship.  Not you.  You think that you, by yourself, with your little rock can stop me?  You have no idea the things I’ve done to survive for the past _thousand_ years.  Do you want to know what happened to the last person that tried to keep me prisoner?”  Bucky waits but, predictably, Carter has no reply.  “Two nights ago, Nat _dismembered_ him.  And she’s good too, I think he might still be alive, somewhere.  Nothing but some cauterized stumps and a head, waiting to die in a warehouse in London, praying that bombers take him out before he starves, _or worse_ , before Nat comes back to finish the job.  But even that is _mercy_ compared to what I did to the ones who had kept her away from me.  You’re little fairy tales that you read don’t even come _close_ to the reality of what we’re capable of.  So take my advice, if you want to live, then you’ll release me right now and get a head start on sending out that SOS before I cut your radios.”

There’s a shuffling, and Bucky can suddenly feel Peggy’s breath on his face.

“You think you frighten me?” Peggy finally says, voice dangerously low.  “I’ve been on the front lines of the war to end all wars for four years now.  If you think your threats are original, then I’m afraid you’re sadly mistaken.  The only thing you’ve succeeded in doing is telling me your plan.”

Bucky laughs and strains hard against the cuffs, sitting up and closing the distance between him and Carter.

“Did I, Agent Carter?”  He relaxes, leaning back against the wall behind him awkwardly and sighing.  “Guess you’ll just have to find out.”

Another scuffle and Bucky hears Carter getting to her feet.  Her heels click across the floor this time as she heads for the door.  Bucky just leans back further and closes his eyes.

“I’ll admit, Agent Peggy Carter, they don’t make many like you,” he calls after her.  “It’ll be a shame to watch you die.”

The door swings closed and Bucky is alone once again.

 

 

Steve walks through a snowy forest.  Above him, the sky is lit up in the brilliant blues and purples of a galaxy.  Snow drifts down silently around him, muting the sounds of the forest and the falls of his boots.  Glancing behind him, Steve sees his team spread in a fire team wedge, eyes darting around the forest, faces set in stony masks of stoicism. 

As they walk, the sky grows ever brighter, stars and planets swirling in a way that makes Steve feel dizzy.  Around them, the trees are replaced by massive stone ruins, twisted and crumbling.  It reminds Steve of the bombed-out remains of parts of London.  Faces peer out from inside the moss covered, stone temples.  A flash of white so bright, purer than the freshly fallen snow, draws Steve’s attention to the right.  He holds up a fist to call his formation for a halt.  But when he glances behind him again, there is nobody.  Nervously, Steve readjusts his grip on his shield and starts towards the massive stone foot from which behind he had seen the rustle of fabric. 

The closer Steve gets to the remains of some enormous statue, the warmer the air around him grows.  Steve tugs on his collar, glancing around to see that the falling snow has been replaced by leaves, falling steadily and creating a green canvas on the floor of the sweltering forest.  Finally, after walking for what seems like hours, Steve reaches the sandaled foot.  He rounds it, grip flexing on his shield, and finds a perfectly clear pond.

Steve furrows his brow and approaches the crystalline water.  It’s so deep that it disappears into blackness.  Steve can’t make out the bottom, even though the pond itself is only about ten feet in diameter.  Steve licks his dry lips, suddenly thirsty.  He gets to his knees, pulling off his helmet and dropping his shield gently before cupping his hands into the water.  As he draws them back, a hand shoots out of the water and wraps around Steve’s wrist.

Steve jolts and pulls away.  Another hand emerges, along with a long, sleek body.  Both hands cup Steve’s face gently and he’s suddenly looking into Bucky’s silver eyes, pupils now cat-like slits.

“Shhh,” Bucky whispers.  “Don’t wake up.  I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Steve steadies his breathing, glancing around and seeing his surroundings as if for the first time.

“This is a dream,” Steve breaths, looking back down at Bucky.

Bucky isn’t exactly Bucky though.  His skin is slick and shiny, his face angled and teeth sharp.  His wet hair shimmers and sets glossy around his shoulders.  Silvery fins set on his arms and his back, his fingers are webbed, and extended behind him, Steve can see a tail like a shark.  Against his neck are slits, like gills, and his eyes are enormous on his face.

“So this is what you really look like?” Steve asks, settling back in the grass.

Bucky chuckles, leaning against the side of the pond.

“Not exactly,” Bucky replies, glancing down at himself lazily.  “I assume this is what you think I look like.  This is _your_ dream after all.”

Bucky puts his hands on the side of the pond and hauls himself up and out of the water.  As the water slides off of his body, the otherworldly visage slides away as well, revealing the Bucky Steve has come to know.  He’s stark naked, and Steve blushes and looks away.  Bucky chuckles again, before sitting crosslegged in the grass next to Steve.

“I’m not supposed to talk to you,” Steve says, still not looking at Bucky.

“Hey, I didn’t come here.  You called me here.”

“No, I didn’t,” Steve replies defensively.      

“You think I’m strong enough to dream walk with that fucking rock around?” Bucky points out.  “I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want me.”

Steve slaps his own face lightly and Bucky laughs.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks.

“Trying to wake myself up.”

“You won’t wake up until you want to wake up now.”

“What does that mean,” Steve hisses finally turning to glare at Bucky.

Bucky looks Steve up and down with a goofy grin.

“So this is what that marvelous costume looks like in person,” Bucky observes, smile wide and eyes bright.  Steve suddenly wants to kiss him.  But he scoffs and forces himself to look away instead.  Bucky sighs heavily.  “Steve, you called me here.  I assume to ask me something.  And you won’t let yourself wake up until you have an answer.  So…fire away.”

“I don’t want to ask you anything,” Steve snaps, meaner than he meant to be.  Bucky gives him an incredulous look.

“Then…you want something else,” Bucky replies, voice darkening as his hand slides over Steve’s shoulder and down his chest.

Steve jumps to his feet.

“Is everything about sex with you?!” Steve demands.

Bucky looks up at him with a hurt look.  If he’s faking, it’s convincing, because Steve immediately feels bad.  In fact, Bucky recoils, folding in on himself.

“I don’t want to be here,” Bucky snaps.  He’s inching towards the water.  “I _shouldn’t_ be here.  I’m going to be too weak to even stand when this is over.”

Steve softens his frame but doesn’t sit back down.

“How did I call you?” Steve asks, trying to sound less accusing. 

Bucky’s face goes slightly pale.  His fingers go to his throat, groping for something that isn’t there.  His eyes go distant and Steve realizes he’s feeling for the silver chain that usually sits around his neck.  Bucky just shakes his head numbly.

“I don’t know,” Bucky whispers.  His eyes focus again and he looks up at Steve.

Suddenly, Bucky lurches, throwing himself back into the water.  Steve rushes to the side, but all he can see are bubbles and a shadowy form near the black emptiness of the bottom of the pond.  The world around Steve suddenly begins to tremble.  Steve is thrown to the ground as the landscape begins to change at a sickening pace.  The pond bubbles like it’s boiling and then the water splashes out of it, replaced by snowy ground. 

Steve is back in the frigid forestscape.  Sam is behind him, helping him to his feet and asking if he’s alright. 

“Fine,” Steve mutters.

Sam goes still, arms falling to his side and he turns mutely to walk zombie-like towards the rest of the team.  Steve turns to look and sees that they are all faceless, nothing but dark shadows for their features.  It makes Steve shiver.

“ _Steve, what the fuck!_ ” Bucky shouts.

Steve twists back around to see Bucky tied to a tree.  Steve rushes forward, grabbing a knife from his boot.  Bucky strains and struggles against the restraints.

“Let me leave!” Bucky demands as Steve cuts the ropes.  Bucky falls to the ground panting.

“How?!” Steve cries.

Bucky gives him a disgusted look from under his brow.  He’s still breathless, fingers once again going to his throat to grab for the chain that isn’t there.  He shoves himself upright, brushing his damp hair from his face.

“There’s something that you want to fucking say to me,” Bucky snaps, voice hard.  “So _say it_ and let me leave.”

Suddenly, Bucky glances to the left.  Steve follows his gaze and sees a flash of red and black just before a body collides with his.

Steve is thrown to the ground, his attacker on top of him.  It’s Nat, her eyes crazed.

“What are you doing to him?!” she screams in Steve’s face. 

Bucky rushes forward, grabbing Nat by the shoulders.  But she shrugs out of his grip and grabs something from her belt.  It’s a knife, and she swings it upward.

“Nat!” Bucky shouts, lunging forward again.

But it’s too late, the knife plunges downward and plunges into Steve’s chest.  With a breath like a drowning man, Steve sits up in the bed.  He wrestles with the sheets that are wrapped around him, toppling to the floor as he does.  His hands go to his chest, where a ghostly sharp pain still lingers.  There is no wound though, it was only a dream.

Steve doesn’t even remember going to sleep.  He looks around and he doesn’t recognize the room.  It looks like a small medical bay, but he’s the only occupant.  The last thing he remembers is heading towards the galley, not particularly hungry, thoughts circling only one particular subject despite his inner protests.

Finally, Steve catches his breath and frees himself from the twisted sheets.  He gets to his feet and catches a glimpse of himself in a mirror.  There’s a bruise blossoming on the right side of his forehead, along his hairline.  He touches it gently and jumps at how painful it is.  There’s also brushes of black and purple along his cheekbone.  He tries to furrow his brow in confusion, but it hurts too much.  He must have been hit on the head, but he can’t remember how.

He’s not wearing a shirt, or boots, but when he looks around the room, he can’t find them.  There’s a faint ringing in his ears.  He looks through the cabinets and drawers but can only find medical gowns, so he resigns himself to walking through the ship half naked.  As he gets closer to the door, though, he realizes that the ringing isn’t in his ears.  The closer he gets, the louder it grows, and it doesn’t take Steve long to understand that he’s hearing an alarm.  His pace quickens.

Steve tries the door, but it’s locked from the outside.  It takes him a second to get steady enough to land a few good kicks on the hinges, but the sealed door still won’t budge.  So Steve resigns himself to pounding on the door and shouting, hoping to get somebody’s attention.

The closer he listens through the thick metal, the more troubling sounds he can hear.  Behind the blaring alarm, there’s shouting and, at one point, a weapon firing.  What the hell is happening?  Steve steps back and continues trying to kick at the door, even though he knows it’s built to withstand the pressure of a sinking ship filling with water.  He may be strong, but he’s not that strong.

Finally, the lock unseals and the door swings open and Steve is face to face with three sailors.  One is being held up by the others.  He’s screaming and covered in blood, his shirt ripped open to reveal an enormous gash down the center of his gut.  The sailors look up at Steve with shock on their faces.  The other two don’t look much better than the third.  They’re sweating and smudged with blood, but Steve can’t tell if it’s theirs or somebody else’s.

“What’s going on out there?!” Steve cries, leaning forward to grab the injured sailor. 

“We’re under attack, sir,” one of the sailors replies breathlessly before the other shoves past Steve and runs into the medical bay.

Steve helps them get the injured sailor to a bunk.  The other sailors rush around the room, grabbing up medical supplies haphazardly.  One of them throws a rifle into Steve’s arms.

“You’d better get out there,” he pants before rushing away.

Steve does what he says and is out the door not a moment later.

The ship is in absolute chaos.  Steve has no doubt of who the culprit is and, without thinking, he’s racing towards the captain’s quarters.  On his way, he passes a few pale-faced sailors running frantically between machine rooms.  None of them spare Steve a second glance.  Up above, Steve can hear the canons and gunner positions firing. 

The door to the captain’s quarter is open, swinging lazily on its hinges and the ship rocks unsteadily in the water.  Peggy isn’t inside.  Steve charges through and into the bedroom. 

Bucky is on the floor, thrashing wildly, hands still restrained behind his back.  From behind the sack over his head, he’s sputtering and making sounds like he is choking.  Steve drops to his knees, grabbing the burlap and ripping it away.  Underneath, Bucky’s face is turning blue, his eyes bulging from their sockets.  He blinks at the sudden light and then his terrified eyes find Steve.  For a moment, Steve’s hands hover over Bucky, unsure exactly what is happening.  But it’s clear that Bucky can’t breath and Steve suddenly finds the source.

The silver chain around Bucky’s neck has shrunk and tightened, so tight, that it’s digging into his skin, suffocating him.  Steve digs his fingers into the flesh of Bucky’s neck, trying to get his blunt fingernails under the silver chain.  His digging only makes Bucky start to sputter and gasp worse.  Steve glances down, waiting for Bucky to meet his eyes to give him an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry,” Steve gasps before pressing his weight forward.

He feels like he’s crushing Bucky’s trachea, but Steve is able to dig his fingers beneath the chain.  With a massive tug, Steve pulls upward on the chain.  The silver uncoils and breaks in Steve’s hands, leaving him holding a thin, broken chain.  The moment Steve is able to snap the chain, Bucky heaves, gasping in deep breaths and struggling to breath in oxygen.  He’s wheezing and sputtering, sitting upright and folding over on himself.  Without thinking, Steve reaches behind Bucky and yanks on the cuffs, breaking them easily.

Bucky’s hands immediately move to his throat, grasping for the chain that is no longer there.  When he finally catches his breath, his eyes rove angrily and land on the broken chain spilling through Steve’s fingers.

“What did you do?” Bucky wheezes, eyes fixed on the chain.

“I pulled it off of you,” Steve replies, equally breathless.

Bucky takes a few long breaths.

“ _How?_ ” he finally pants.

“I-I…I’m strong?” Steve responds uncertainly.

Bucky shakes his head furiously, eyes still fixed on the silver chain in Steve’s hands as he gulps in air.  Finally, Bucky seems to catch his breath, at least slightly, and his freed hands immediately go to the broken necklace in Steve’s hands.  He picks it up as if he doubts its existence, examining it with wide eyes.  He begins to shake his head furiously.

“It’s not possible,” Bucky gasps, eyes fixated on the broken chain in his hand.  Finally, his eyes move to Steve.  “It’s not possible,” he repeats quietly.

Steve’s gaze falls to the spot on Bucky’s neck where the chain had been choking him.  What remains is an angry red mark, a spot in his skin where it looks like the chain actually burned its way into Bucky’s flesh.  Before Steve’s eyes, though, the mark is quickly healing, sealing itself over and leaving nothing but trickles of blood.

Bucky’s trembling hands are scratching across the ground, trying to grab onto Steve’s fingers.  Steve looks up into Bucky’s serious stare.  Bucky’s unsteady hands finally gain purchase, gripping Steve’s hand like he’s afraid that if he let’s go he might drown.  Steve finally brings his gaze up to the unfocused, light grey eyes that are trying to bore into his skull.

“How?” Bucky repeats.

The door to the room is kicked open.  Steve whips around to see Peggy, and behind her is Nat, a pistol held steady against Peggy’s temple.  Peggy’s fingers dig hard into the flesh of Nat’s arm, which is around her neck, but despite the blood she is drawing with her clawing, Nat shoves her into the room.

For a long moment, there is silence.  Steve looks back and forth between Nat and Bucky.  They seem to be having a silent conversation with their eyes, one that captures a magnitude of meaning, but Steve can’t fathom what they might be saying to each other.  Bucky weakly holds up a hand from which the silver chain pours like water.  Nat stares at it in disbelief.  She throws Peggy to the side negligently, stepping forward and falling to her knees in front of Bucky.  Her hands come up to cup Bucky’s and her eyes search Bucky’s silver orbs desperately. 

They have another silent conversation, and Nat lunges up on her knees, turning on Steve.

“What did you do?!” she demands furiously.           

“I-I-I pulled the chain off?” Steve says uncertainly. 

Bucky’s hands have dropped to the floor and he is on all fours, staring hard at Nat.  Both of their eyes race back and forth and Bucky suddenly lunges towards Steve.  His hands land on Steve’s forearm and he tugs desperately. 

“Can you take off Nat’s?” he pants.

Steve’s eyes search until they land on the exact same silver chain setting in the hallows of Nat’s collar bones.

“Her chain?” Steve clarifies.

Bucky nods frantically.  Nat gives Steve an incredibly dubious look but goes entirely still, arms falling to her side and pushing out her throat.  Steve grabs the chain numbly and gives the chain a tug.  It doesn’t budge.  Steve pulls harder, but all he succeeds in doing in tugging Nat down so hard that she has to catch herself on her hands.

To the left of Steve, Peggy is starting to stir, arms flailing and grabbing at the surrounding furniture.

Nat gives Steve a disgusted look, scoffing before turning her green eyes to Bucky.

“It’s a trick,” Nat gasps, hands grabbing at Bucky’s before she turns to give Steve an accusatory glare.  “What _are_ you?”

“Uhm,” is all Steve can think to say.

Nat is grabbing at Bucky’s face now, trying to bring his gaze off of Steve and onto her own eyes.  Finally, Bucky’s eyes move onto Nat.

“We have to leave, _now!”_ Nat gasps.

“No!” Bucky protests.  His eyes go to Steve again.  “He-he-he,” Bucky stutters.

“We have to go now, while you’re still free,” Nat hisses, shaking Bucky lightly.

“ _No_ ,” Bucky persists.  “Nat, he-he _freed me_.  I think-“

“Shut up!” Nat interrupts harshly.  A second later, a body lunges from the corner and Peggy tackles Nat to the floor. 

They wrestle for a moment, during which Bucky grabs Steve in a vice-like grip once again.  Steve tries to watch the women struggle, but Bucky shakes him in his grip, demanding Steve’s attention.

“ _Steve,_ what did you want to say to me?” Bucky shouts.

Steve’s eyes search Bucky’s face dubiously.  He has no idea what Bucky is asking of him.  But Bucky uses his other hand to grab Steve further up on his arm and yanks him towards him. 

“Steve,” Bucky insists, eyes darting desperately around Steve’s face before he leans in and pulls Steve hard.

Their lips meet.  The entire world fades away, dripping down like water colors around Steve.  Bucky’s lips are full and so _alive_ that Steve can’t help but lean into the kiss.  Steve’s arm slings around Bucky’s neck, tugging him in closer and Bucky deepens the kiss.  When Bucky pulls away first, Steve whines low and deep in his throat.

“Steve,” Bucky breaths.

“I love you,” Steve replies, equally breathless and without thinking about the words that are tumbling from his lips.

Bucky’s body hardens beneath Steve’s grip.  Steve opens his eyes.  He and Bucky are face to face and Bucky’s eye lids are still sealed shut hard.  Bucky breaths in harshly through his nose and replies without opening his eyes.

“What?”

“I-I-I…” Steve’s tongue can’t seem to handle entire words.  He sputters uselessly and watches Bucky’s eyes open, bright and full of some emotion that Steve can’t name.

Bucky extracts himself from Steve’s grip, moving slowly and not breaking Steve’s stare.  He reaches towards the still tumbling mass that is Nat and Peggy.  Bucky’s hand lands on Nat’s shoulders and with a tug, he pulls Nat backwards and towards him.

“Stop,” Bucky breaths, and Nat immediately complies, going still and looking up at Bucky with a question in her eyes.

Peggy huffs and gets her knees under her, snatching up the pistol and pressing it to Nat’s forehead.  Neither Nat nor Bucky respond, both still staring at each other. 

Steve leans back on his heels, eyes darting between Bucky, Nat and Peggy.

Bucky and Nat stare each other down.


	9. Mazes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all. Short chapter here, another coming ASAP. As a side note, I only have Army experience, no Navy. So if any of my nautical terms are incorrect, please feel free to educate me! Thanks!

“Bucky,” Nat says, voice a low warning, “we have a job to do.  We stick to the plan.”

Steve crawls across the floor to where Peggy is attempting to get to her feet.  Blood gushes from her hairline and down her face.  There’s a slightly dazed look in her eyes.  For the moment, Steve allows Nat and Bucky to have their heavy, semi-silent show down as he attempts to calm Peggy.  She’s unsteady, the usual dignity to her movements gone.  He gets his arms around her and eases her towards him.  She fights him for a moment before complying.

“What happened?” Steve whispers.

Peggy glares at Nat with uneven eyes.

“ _She_ attacked the ship with a _bloody U-boat_ ,” Peggy hisses, a bit slurred but still furious.

“Not so confident without your little trinket, are you?” Nat interjects venomously.

“The stone?” Steve asks, feeling gently along Peggy’s hairline for the bleeding gash.  It’s wide and deep and bleeding so much that Steve feels suddenly afraid for Peggy, something he’s never really felt before.

“Is at the bottom of the ocean,” Nat replies instead.  “Where is damn belongs.”

“Steve,” Peggy gasps seriously, fingers clawing into the skin of his wrist.  “You have to get out of here, now.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Steve says.

“That’s an order!” Peggy cries.

Nat seems to take that as a threat, because in an instant, she’s on her feet, arm going around Steve’s throat.  Steve blinks, and Bucky is there too, attempting to extract Steve from Nat’s vice-like grasp.  The room erupts in chaos as Bucky and Nat wrestle, seeming to appear and disappear in different places around the cramped room.  Finally, Nat is thrown against a wall.  She lands cat-like, snarling.  Bucky puts himself between Nat and Steve.

“ _Nat!_ ” Bucky shouts, hands up defensively.  “The chain is gone!  This changes everything!”

“It changes nothing,” Nat snaps.

“He can’t track me!” Bucky replies desperately, quickly closing the space between him and Nat, grabbing her shoulders hard and forcing her to move her gaze from Steve to him.  “This is a chance at _real_ freedom.  Did you ever truly believe that this would be over once we got Rogers to the Sunken City?  They’re humans, they’ll only keep asking for more and _more_.  No promise matters until the chains are gone.”

Nat takes a shaky breath, her green eyes wide and bright as she stares at Bucky hard.  Her eyes flicker towards Steve with a dubious, almost frightened gaze.

“How do you know it’s not a trick?” Nat breathes so quietly Steve wouldn’t be able to hear her without his enhanced hearing.  “A double cross?  How do you know that he just hasn’t taken the others’ place?”

Bucky falters, turning to glance at Steve.  He looks back at Nat and puts his palm to her chest.  Another silent conversation happens and Nat nods slowly, eyes falling now on Peggy.  Steve shifts, trying to move Peggy behind him. 

Bucky disappears and reappears beside Steve.  It makes Steve jump.  Bucky crouches, stareing hard into Steve’s eyes.

“We need to talk,” Bucky says solemnly.

“No,” Steve replies immediately.  “Peggy is hurt, the ship is under attack, your _friend_ is trying to kill everyone on board!  I’m not going to just come ‘talk’ with you!”

Bucky turns his gaze to Peggy.  Steve tries again to shield her, but Bucky leans forward quickly, one hand landing on Steve’s shoulder, the other going to Peggy’s chest.  His eyes flutter shut and Steve feels suddenly like he is bleeding.  Something warm is seeping from his shoulder, something that seems to glow dark blue.  Steve jolts at the sensation but finds himself suddenly weakened.  Meanwhile, Peggy has begun to gasp.  She sits bolt upright and extracts herself from Bucky’s touch.  Bucky pulls both of his hands back, but when Peggy goes to feel at her head wound, her fingers come back dry.

“Did you just?” Steve whispers.  “How did you-?”

Bucky levels Steve with a serious look.

“We have to talk,” he repeats.

The ship shudders with another blow.  Peggy is back on her feet, revitalized, diving for the discarded pistol.  Nat beats her there though, and they topple to the floor.

“Tell her to call off the attack!” Steve shouts over the groaning of the ship, still rocking dangerously on its hull.

Bucky disappears, moving across the room in an instant and getting his arms around Nat once again.  The distraction is all Peggy needs, she gets her hands on the pistol and pulls herself from the fray.  Steve hears the hammer click.

Nat snarls but Bucky freezes, putting his hands up.

“ _Nat_ ,” Bucky says, voice a low warning. 

Nat glares hard at the side of Bucky’s head, but Bucky’s eyes are still on Peggy.

“We’re all going to the command cabin,” Peggy announces dangerously.

“You can’t make us do anything without the stone,” Nat snaps.

To illustrate her point, Nat disappears from the room.  Peggy doesn’t falter, pistol still trained on Bucky’s head.

“Want to see who’s faster?” Peggy dares, cocking an eyebrow at Bucky.

“Peggy, don’t!” Steve pleads, slowly getting to his feet.

“Captain, you have no idea what you are dealing with here.  An hour ago, I was dragging all two hundred pounds of you to the medical bay.  If you want to get off this blasted ship alive, _stay out of it_ ,” Peggy barks, eyes not leaving Bucky.

“I’m surrendering,” Bucky pipes up, still sounding cocky and in control even when waving a white flag.  It makes Steve’s throat go dry, though he isn’t sure if it’s in a good way.

“Bullshit you are,” Peggy spits.  “Your partner just disappeared from this fucking room.”

“She’s gone back to the U-boat,” Bucky replies evenly.  “She’s calling off the attack.”

“Well then she can meet us in the command cabin,” Peggy says.

“Alright,” Bucky shrugs casually, clearly not fazed by Peggy’s threatening tone.  “Let’s go.”

Bucky takes a few steps, careful not to move too quickly.  Peggy huffs but turns, keeping her sites on him as he walks calmly from the room.  As he steps through the doorway, he throws a look at Steve.  Peggy can’t see it from where she now stands just behind Bucky, but Bucky winks at Steve. 

Steve rushes forward, grabbing Bucky hard on his upper arm.  He winces a bit, but smiles brightly at Steve.

“No funny business,” Steve warns.

“Captain, you insult me,” Bucky teases.  “Funny business?  Me?”

The three of them walk in silence, Bucky moving at what seems a purposefully slow pace.  But Steve follows Peggy’s lead, keeping his eyes ahead and a strong grip on Bucky.  When they finally get to the upper deck, Peggy shoves Bucky hard into a chair and approaches the sweating captain.

“Status report?” she asks.

“The barrage seems to have stopped, ma’am,” the captain replies breathlessly.  “But the Germans haven’t made any demands.  They’re just…waiting.”

When Nat reappears in the cabin, the crew jump, drawing their weapons. 

“Captain, I am afraid I am going to need your crew to clear this area,” Peggy shouts over to commotion.

“Are you kidding me, lady,” the captain laughs, dropping his respectful tone and leveling Peggy with a look of disbelief.  “We are coming under enemy fire.  You have no jurisdiction on my ship at the moment.”

Peggy just rolls her eyes.

“Very well then, captain, I suppose I’ll leave you to deal with the magical, mind-controlling mermaids,” Peggy replies casually, immediately holstering her weapon.  “Good luck to you.  Come along, Steve.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?  What the _fuck_ is happening right now?” the captain snaps.

“Captain, I believe that what is happening falls far above _your_ jurisdiction.  You’re welcome to get on the wire with Colonel Phillips, Chester.  He is my superior and he is more than qualified to explain to you _exactly_ what my specialties are.”

“Agent Carter, I know all about the freak show they call the SSR and your special little projects and dancing monkeys,” the captain throws a contemptuous glace at Steve.  “If you’ve put my ship and crew in danger, I’ll have you all thrown in Leavenworth.”

“Those are all lovely threats, Captain, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m the only one who can save your sorry arses now,” Peggy replies coolly. 

Nat suddenly appears beside the captain and without a word, she presses two fingers to his forehead.  Immediately, the man crumples to the floor, unconscious. 

“I don’t like banter,” Nat says tersely as an explanation.  She turns to look at the crew with a cocked eyebrow.  “Who’s next?”

“Out!” Steve shouts as loud as he can, immediately demanding the attention of every sailor in the room.  “All of you, now.  That’s an order!”

Most turn to leave.

“You don’t give orders here,” one of the sailors snaps angrily. 

Nat is there in an instant, one finger beneath the man’s chin.  He immediately goes rigid, gasping as a dull yellow light seems to be draining from his eyes, nose, and mouth.  Peggy is a quick draw.  Her pistol goes off and Nat drops the man, hand going to her arm.  Bucky tries to get out of his seat but Steve shoves him back down.  Nat pulls back bloody fingers and snarls furiously at Peggy.

“Oh hush, we both know that if I wanted to hurt you, I would have aimed elsewhere,” Peggy retorts calmly.

“You limey little bitch,” Nat hisses, but she doesn’t move.  The man she had attacked is stumbling away, followed by the other dissenters.  “We’re alone now, you’re welcome,” Nat adds when the door swings closed.

Bucky springs out of his seat, evading Steve’s grip easily and rubbing his hands together with a wide grin.  Steve lunges for him, but catches only air in the spot where Bucky’s arm had been.  He’s across the room now, just to the left of Peggy.  Before she can react, he runs a finger down her cheek and she falls to the floor beside the captain.

“ _Peggy!_ ” Steve shouts, rushing forward, but Nat throws out an arm to catch him.

Bucky turns to Steve, his smile still sunny.

“Good, it’s just us now,” Bucky says brightly.

Nat uses an immense amount of strength, well beyond Steve’s own, to shove Steve hard into the seat where Bucky had just been.  Then she’s behind him, using one strong arm to hold him there despite his struggling.  Bucky bends at the waist, grabbing Peggy’s weapon and cocking it casually before throwing a dark glance Steve’s way.

“Shall we have that talk now, Captain?” Bucky says.

Steve realizes with a sinking feeling that he’s walked right into a trap.

 

 

 

 

Bucky sees the horrified look on Steve’s face.  The poor bastard thinks he’s walked right into a neatly laid trap.  Bucky isn’t about to correct him though.  Because on some levels, Steve has played right into their hands.  Bucky hadn’t been counting on him breaking the chain though.  That had been a curveball.  The plan in Bucky’s head is beginning to change, but he’s not about to reassure Steve that everything is alright.  That would be plain foolish.  Bucky’s got the upper hand again, and he isn’t about to jeopardize that.

Steve’s eyes are on the gun in Bucky’s hand and Bucky can’t help but chuckle.

“You think I’m going to use this on you, Rogers?” Bucky asks, waving the pistol a bit.  “We both know I don’t need this.  It’s just…a precaution.”

Steve doesn’t look like he believes it.

“A contingency.  Not for you,” Bucky adds casually as he pushes the weapon into the waist of his pants.  “We’re both veterans of battle, Steve.  Always have a contingency plan.”

“You’re toying with me,” Steve snarls.  “Stop it.”

“It’s true, you are,” Nat agrees with a wicked grin.  “Don’t play with your food, James.”

“Meal ticket,” Bucky corrects.

Bucky settles himself into one of the lifted captain chairs sideways, leaning his head against the arm he has thrown against the back of the seat so that he can keep his eyes on Steve.

“Though he is quite delicious,” Bucky adds with a glance up at Nat’s absolutely gleeful eyes.  She hasn’t always been a glutton for violence, but Bucky knows that she acquired the taste during her years of captivity.  Maybe Bucky has too.  He sighs heavily.

“So, Captain, you love me?” Bucky asks with a disbelieving grin.  He shakes his head and settles a pitying look on Steve.  “That’s what you had to tell me?  _That’s_ why you tied me to a tree?  Don’t be ridiculous.”

Bucky bounds to his feet again, approaching Steve quickly.  He’s still weakened, not like Nat whom Bucky assumes ate almost the entire crew of the U-boat.  But he leans in close to Steve, hands pushing his wrists down to the arms of the chair so he can give him a menacing smile.

“I heard you making the same frantic declarations to Agent Carter not three hours ago,” Bucky points out.  “I think that’s just something you say when you’re afraid.”  Something flickers through Steve’s eyes and Bucky knows he has it right.  “You hardly know me.”

Bucky straightens and his fingers go to his throat, feeling the still sensitive skin there.

“Though, I will admit, this threw me for a loop,” Bucky says quietly.  “How’d you do it?”

Steve’s struggling becomes more frantic, but Nat’s grip just tightens to a bone crushing strength.  No doubt if it was any other human, she’d have cracked a rib by now.

“I don’t know,” Steve wheezes.  “I don’t even know what that necklace is!”

“Collar, actually,” Bucky replies.  He sighs and glances down at Steve.  Rogers is trying his best not to let his fear show on his face.  And to most, he would be succeeding.  He has an excellent poker face, Bucky can give him that.  But Bucky can see more than any human can.  He can see the aura around Steve, fear like black oil spreading on the surface of the ocean, poisoning his usually sky blue energy.  Bucky can’t help but take a bit of pity on him.  “If Nat lets you go, you promise to be a good boy?” Bucky asks.

Steve just huffs angrily but his body goes still.

“Come on, Steve.  I need you to say it,” Bucky teases.

“I-…I won’t try anything,” Steve says roughly.

“That’s not what I said,” Bucky points out, voice almost sing song.

“I…promise to be a good boy,” Steve grumbles miserably. 

Bucky holds back a laugh and nods to Nat.  Nat rolls her eyes but releases Steve, vaporating across the room to stand by the door.  Steve is on his feet immediately, rushing across the room to Peggy.  Bucky rolls his eyes.

“She’s fine, Steve.  Jesus.”

Once he’s confirmed that himself, Steve throws a hate-filled look over his shoulder at Bucky.  He rises slowly to his feet, shoulders back as if he expects a fight.

“What do you want from me?” Steve demands.

“I told you,” Bucky sighs.  “I want to know how you broke the chain, and why.”

Steve spasms desperately, arms flailing.  Genuine confusion and frustration crosses his face before he catches it a moment later and his features go stony.

“You can kill me, or take me to your master, or _whatever_ , just leave these people out of it,” Steve says solemnly. 

Bucky chuckles a little, sprawling himself out in the seat Steve just left.  He chews on his lip as he regards Steve.  Bucky makes a show of looking Steve up and down.

“You really are a hero, aren’t you, Rogers?” Bucky muses, mostly to himself.  “But, if you’re play is self-sacrifice, then I guess it’s settled.”  Bucky sighs heavily, sitting up straight in the seat and looking over to where Nat is still standing, arms crossed, beside the door.  She’s raises a questioning eyebrow. 

“Let’s see what Namor thinks of him.”


	10. Back Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: some internalized homophobia

“Let me get this straight,” Nat says, dry washing her face.  “You want to take him to Namor and _not_ Hydra?”

“You got it straight,” Bucky shrugs.

“And you think you’re going to what, flounce up to Namor and he’s just going to give you a vanguard salute for bringing him Captain America?  Namor doesn’t give a shit about him,” Nat hisses.  “If anything, he’ll kill us both on the spot for jeopardizing the tribe.”

“Nat-“ Bucky tries, but is quickly interrupted.

“No, James, no!  The _deal_ is we take Captain America to Hydra.  _Then_ we can return to the Sunken City fucking _heroes_.  They’re all counting on us.”  Nat’s voice is pitched with a desperation Bucky rarely hears, the kind that's only reserved for him when he is making a bad decision.  “We’re so close, Bucky.  So close to going home and never having to deal with these _apes_ ever again.”

Bucky finally turns his head slightly so he can look Nat in the eye.

“Nat, you’re smarter than that,” Bucky sighs.

“Don’t take that pitying tone with me,” Nat snaps.  “I’m not your plaything like Rogers.”

“I’m serious, Natasha,” Bucky retorts, brow furrowing.  “You believe that of anyone on this miserable crust that _Hydra_ would just let us walk away?  You know they already have Odin’s jewel.  The entire point of their division is to find and _control_ otherworldly powers.”

Nat grinds her teeth but doesn’t reply, measuring her words carefully in her head.

“So what exactly do you think will come of bringing Rogers to Namor?” Nat asks slowly even though Bucky knows she knows the answer already.

Bucky huffs and drops his gaze for a moment.

“You _can’t_ be serious, James,” Nat exasperates.

“It’s a trinity,” Bucky says earnestly, bringing his gaze back to Nat.

“Those don’t exist anymore.  Not since the temple was destroyed.”

“Well it’s obviously not a completed trinity,” Bucky points out.  “I’m pretty sure he hates you.”

“And what?  You think he loves you?  Don’t be stupid.  He’s obviously got something up his sleeve.  I intend to find out what before we start doing idiotic things, like taking him to the fucking chief.”

“Can’t you just let yourself have a little bit of faith?” Bucky asks.

“Faith?  Are you kidding me?” Nat snaps vehemently.  “Our _faith_ was crushed out of us by them.  Over one thousand, three hundred and eighteen years.  Or have you forgotten?”

“I’m not the enemy here!”

“No, but I think you’ve forgotten who the enemy is.”  Nat looks as if she is about to say something else, but stops herself, biting her lip for a moment before taking a deep breath.  “I’m not going to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” Bucky replies softly.  “But you don’t trust me, not like you used to.”

Nat shrugs miserably.

“We’re not the same people we were back then,” she says softly, eyes on Bucky’s collarbones.

Bucky lifts a hand to Nat’s face and brings her gaze back to his eyes.

“No, but you’re still my soulmate,” he says gently.  “And we still have each other.  No matter what.  We’ve gotten through worse.”

Nat pulls her chin out of Bucky’s grasp and looks at the wall to her left, jaw tight.  Bucky sighs and rolls his aching shoulders.  He waits for Nat to look back up at him before continuing. 

“Just think about what it means if I’m right,” Bucky says.  “We gain his trust, he can break your chain.  If you don’t think Namor will be interested in that, then you must not remember him as well as I do.”

Nat’s green eyes bore into Bucky’s but he doesn’t blink.

“You really believe him?” she asks shakily.  “You really believe that this could be a trinity?”

Bucky nods sharply.

“Yes.”

 

 

Steve sits against a metal wall, head in his arms.  He’s exhausted.  For the first time since the serum, he realizes how much he’s come to rely on his strength.  But this isn’t something that he can just punch his way out of. 

He’s trapped on a ship with its communications cut in the middle of the Atlantic, held captive by two beings with powers that he can’t begin to comprehend, let alone know the limits of, and the only person who knows how to stop them in unconscious beside him, her only real weapon against them lost to Davey Jones, a German U-boat posed just below the surface of the waves with the firepower to send the vessel plummeting after the stone. 

Or, to put it another way, he’s screwed.

Jumping from airplanes, punching Nazi’s, leading combat missions—those are things that Steve Rogers can do.  But these mind games?  He has no patience for them.  Steve lives in a world of right and wrong, black and white.  But these beings, they seem to exist in an endless universe of shades of grays.

Worst of all, the slight tugging in his stomach and the humming around his brain stem never went away.  He remembers Bucky’s words.

“I’m addictive, Steve, and you’ve already had a taste.”

Steve’s never been addicted to anything, but this has to be what it feels like.  Because he feels like an addict, and the more time that passes, the larger that nagging, that _need_ becomes.  Even with the predicament that Steve finds himself in, even with the betrayal and the lies and traps, even with an entire naval crew in danger and Peggy unmoving by his feet, all Steve wants is to taste Bucky’s skin again.

Bucky and Nat disappeared from the cabin a while ago.  Steve can’t hear them, so they must have gone below deck.  Or maybe to another planet, he has no idea how their apparent teleportation powers word.  But Steve _can_ hear the crew, confused and frantic, suddenly finding their major weapons systems down and their captain gone.  Steve knows he should get to his feet, he should take command, or at least try to calm the crew down, he should do _something_ , anything.  But he’s rooted to the ground, brain too muddled to form a coherent plan.  Some part of him knows that he’s just holding his breath and waiting for Bucky to return.

A puppet on a string.

This is how he goes out.  Not in a blaze of glory, not as a hero, not even from old age.  But as a coward, too love drunk to do anything of use.  And the world will know that Captain America was really a closeted faggot who had the world duped into believing that he meant something.

From across the room, the sonar makes a loud _ping_ noise.  Steve furrows his brow, hauling himself to his feet.  Another _ping_.  He walks on unsteady legs towards the display.  The sonar sweeps and there’s another _ping_ and Steve watches a red shape appear on the screen.  With each sweep, the ping’s grow more frequent and the shape moves closer to the center. 

Steve’s not an idiot.  He may be a soldier, not a sailor, but he knows a fucking approaching submarine when he sees one.  Steve beats back across the room and throws open the door.

“Petty officer!” he shouts to the deck below.

The sailor turns and looks up at him, starting up the metal ladder when Steve beckons. 

“Captain,” the man says slowly once he’s level with Steve.  “Mind telling me what the hell is going on here?”

“I was hoping you can tell me,” Steve says breathlessly, leading the man inside the cabin. 

Immediately, the sailor is on high alert when he hears the sonar, running towards the display.  His eyes go wide when his fears are confirmed.

“Shit,” he says under his breath.

“You think it’s German?” Steve asks.

“I don’t know what the hell it is, I don’t know what the hell any of this is!” the man snaps.  “All coms and weapons systems are down.  So do you mind telling me what the hell you brought on board this vessel, sir?”

“The other sub,” Steve replies, “it has to have working coms.”

“Well bully for them,” the sailor retorts.  “They probably used them to call their buddies.”

“No, I can get onto that sub.  It’s not German, not anymore.  I can put out a distress call.”

“Distress call ain’t gonna do shit.”  The sailor straightens to level Steve with a solemn look.  “If you believe in God, now would be the time to start praying, Captain.”

The sailor doesn’t wait, he brushes past Steve and out onto the deck, shouting out orders to the men below.  Steve watches the sonar, heart rate rising.  He has to try to revive the captain, it’s the only thing of worth that he can do right now.  Steve turns and suddenly finds himself face to face with Bucky.

He’s embarrassed at the way his heart skips a beat.

“There’s another U boat,” Steve blurts without pretense.  “They’re coming in fast.”

“I know,” Bucky says, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder.  Steve wants to pull away, but he doesn’t move, sagging under the relief of having Bucky’s touch on him again, even in this moment.  “Nat’s going to take care of it.”

“What does that mean?” Steve demands, even though his voice is suddenly weak, not coming off as angry as he had hoped.

“I’m sorry for this,” Bucky says with a small nod.

“For what?”

Bucky lifts a hand and cups Steve’s face.

Steve feels his knees buckle as the world fades to black before he even hits the ground.


	11. Remade

When Steve opens his eyes, he’s assaulted by brilliant, shining colors.  It makes his head ache, and he squeezes his eyes shut again.  He’s disoriented, waking up from another of what seems like an inordinate amount of black outs, once again unsure of exactly where he is.  He tries to get a read on his surroundings.  A quick inventory of himself tells him that he isn’t restrained, which seems like a good start.  The air is brisk, but not the kind of cold Steve had become accustomed to over the long winter in Europe.  The air around him smells like salt water and stained wood, along with a long ago lingering scents of candle wax and incense seemingly permanently fingerprinted on the wood.  In fact, it smells a lot like a church.

Steve cracks his eyes open again.  Pupils adjusted now, he realizes that what he is seeing a massive stained glass window, some of the panes cracked or missing, with a late afternoon sun filtering through, illuminating the dancing specks of dust that float in the air.  Steve looks around.  He _is_ in a church, on the alter to be precise, laying on a blanket of old silk scarves and wool robes, the kinds that priests wear during service.  The church is small, only five rows of pews leading to a weathered door that hangs improperly on its hinges. 

His body protests, but Steve rolls over and pushes himself onto his feet.  The church is empty and it clearly hasn’t seen a congregation in many years.  A layer of fine dust covers everything.  Steve runs his fingers across the pulpit, realizing that the dust is sandy.  When he listens closer, he can hear waves crashing somewhere far off.  Steve strides down the steps and through the narrow aisle to the door, throwing it open and shielding his eyes with his arm against the setting sun. 

The church is on top of a high hill overlooking a bay, stony bluffs of volcanic rock high on every side.  A cool, salty wind blows Steve’s hair back.  Sand blows off of the hilly dunes and dances in the wind, sparkling in the light of the sunset.  Brilliant reds and pinks streak the sky and reflect on the water, blending the horizon and the sparkling ocean. 

“I’ve always loved this view,” a voice says from behind Steve.

Steve turns quickly to find Bucky leaned against the warped frame of the door.  All he wears are a pair of sheep skin pants that contour the cut of his thighs in sinful ways.  In his hands, he’s working the husk off of a coconut with a knife.  Steve wills himself to not let his eyes linger.

“Where are we?” Steve demands.

“An island, in the mid-Atlantic.  I think the Spanish call it Graciosa, which means _funny_.”  Bucky shrugs and glances down at his hands, pausing briefly.  “But that’s not what we call it.  We call it Anock, which means ‘gateway.’”

“What are we doing here?  What happened to the ship?  Where’s Peggy?”

“Whoa,” Bucky laughs, holding up his free hand.  “One at a time, Rogers.”

Steve huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Where’s Peggy?”

“Peggy and the rest of the crew are safe in New York.  That naval vessel made it to its destination unharmed.”

“Unharmed,” Steve scoffs in disbelief.  “What about the submarine?”

“I told you, Nat took care of it.”

Steve glares at Bucky.  For his part, Bucky huffs indignantly, dropping the coconut in his hands lazily and tossing the knife into the sand, blade first.

“The sunset is lovely, but I’m sure you’re hungry and if you come back inside with me, I have actual clothes for you,” Bucky says, eyes moving up and down Steve’s body slowly in a way that makes Steve pull his arms in tighter against his chest.  “Not that I’m complaining if you want to stay in that shirt that is _far_ too small for you.”

Steve swallows hard, shifting his weight before nodding and holding out an arm in invitation.  There’s no way he’s letting Bucky walk behind him.  Bucky rolls his eyes before shifting his weight and half stumbling inside the church.

As they walk down the aisle, Steve notices that Bucky’s bare feet don’t leave footprints in the dust.  Bucky bounds up the stairs onto the alter, spitting at the base of the crucifix before giving the wood carved Jesus a contemptuous look. 

“You don’t leave footprints,” Steve points out, keeping his distance.

Bucky laughs, a genuine bark of humor.

“You notice the weirdest shit, Rogers,” Bucky jabs, before turning through a door near the back left corner of the church.  He emerges several moments later, arms full of clothing which he tosses at Steve’s feet.

Keeping his eyes on Bucky, Steve bends and sifts through the pile.  It’s all loose fitting tunics and tight pants, the kind of clothing that Bucky and Nat wear.  Steve makes his selection, moving back towards the front pew and sitting precariously on the edge before giving Bucky a suspicious look.  Bucky rolls his eyes and turns his back, pulling out a pack of cigarettes while Steve changes as quickly as he can.

“So all that wild shit you did on the ship,” Steve says uncertainly as Bucky lights a cigarette.  “Where were all those magic tricks back in London?”

Bucky takes a long drag on his cigarette, glancing back over his shoulder at Steve.

“They don’t work there,” Bucky says with a shrug.  “The further we are from the Sunken City, the less power we have.  Plus, when you broke the chain you…unleashed the beast, so to speak.”

Steve throws his dirty and bloody clothes onto the alter.  Bucky glances down at them before turning back around and leaning against the wall, cigarette between his lips.

“You’re gonna answer my questions now?” Steve asks carefully.  “Why the sudden change of heart.”

Bucky shrugs again.

“Well you’re coming with me to the Sunken City, so I guess I owe you some answers at this point,” Bucky says, cigarette wobbling between his lips.

“Sunken City,” Steve repeats slowly.  “Please tell me you’re not taking me to Atlantis.”

Bucky laughs again, not as harsh this time, and it makes something warm pool in Steve’s stomach.  Steve digs his nails into his palm and drops his gaze.

“Your word, not ours,” Bucky laughs.

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it.  Bucky is in a compliant mood, or at least so it seems, he’d rather stick to the more pressing concerns than the minute details.

“Where’s Nat?” Steve decides on.

“She went on ahead to break the news to Namor,” Bucky says as he exhales another drag.  “She’s a lot better at dealing with him than I am.”

“Where do your powers come from?” Steve asks immediately.

“Uh, temples,” Bucky replies, taking an excessively long pull on his cigarette before flicking it away.  “There are temples in the Sunken City, the stone is where we derive our power.  Some have further reach than others.  They used to all work no matter where we were, but they were destroyed.  Some more so than the rest.  The Trinity Temple is where Agent Carter’s stone comes from.  Our own power used against us because humans are just that sadistic.”

“Who destroyed the temples?”

“Slow down, cowboy,” Bucky says holding his hands up.

“You said you were going to give me answers!” Steve retorts. 

“I can give you answers or I can give you food,” Bucky says.

“I’m pretty sure you could do both at the same time,” Steve replies, but his stomach chooses that moment to voice its complaints, grumbling so loud that Bucky laughs.

“I always forget how often you people need to consume,” Bucky says, shaking his head.  “Come on.”

Bucky turns and walks with a jump in his step back along the aisles.  Steve gets to his feet and follows wearily.  Once outside, they don’t head towards the beach, turning instead to the thick tropical forest.  Steve keeps his distance as they walk but Bucky either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.  He walks quickly and Steve finds himself jogging to catch up to him in order to continue his line of questioning.  In his own head, Steve still hasn’t really come to grasp the reality of his situation.  It all seems too unreal and he thinks that his mind stopped trying to conceptualize on the ship.  All in all, the entire situation feels a lot like a dream, and Steve isn’t so sure that it _isn’t_ another dream. 

“So the closer you are to this city, the more powerful you become?” Steve asks carefully once they’ve been walking through the thick jungle for several minutes.

“That’s about the long and short of it,” Bucky replies brightly, glancing over at Steve with a crooked grin.   “That’s why we chose that ship.  It’s plotted course passed closest to the Sunken City.”

“Then how close are we to Atlantis now?” Steve follows quickly.

“Please don’t call it Atlantis,” Bucky scoffs.  “And, it’s about 30,000 leagues below your feet.”

That gives Steve pause.  He actually looks at the forest floor as if a city might appear there before his eyes.  In fact, he’s still looking down when Bucky suddenly halts, causing Steve to nearly collide with him.  Bucky barely notices, he’s crouched down hauling massive palm leaves away from a smoking pile on the ground.  Steve watches him dig into the sandy dirt, eventually revealing a smoking pig, wrapped in leaves, cooking on hot coals about three feet down.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Bucky comments.

Steve is hungry, famished in fact.  And as soon as the Bucky has hauled the pig out of the pit and handed Steve a knife, Steve descends like a vulture.  Bucky sits on a downed tree, a small grin on his face and he watches Steve begin to eat.  The meat is succulent and roasted to perfection.  Steve has a go at a hind leg, pausing only when most of the meat is gone.

“You don’t eat?” Steve asks, mouth still full.

“Not the things you eat,” Bucky replies.

For someone who doesn’t eat, Bucky certainly knows how to prepare a pig.  When Steve asks him how he knows how to roast a pig this way, Bucky just shrugs and gives a cryptic reply.

“I’ve lived many different lives.”

Even with how much Steve eats, he is full long before the meat is even a quarter gone.  Stomach full, Steve leans back against the trunk of a tree, sighing contentedly.  Bucky is still perched on his log, watching Steve with sharp eyes, so Steve decides to continue his line of questioning.

“Who’s Namor?”

“You’re asking a lot of questions,” Bucky points out with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m cooperating with you, I’ve earned some answers.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re only cooperating because you have no other choice.” 

“You said you’re taking me to Namor,” Steve snaps without pause.  “Who is Namor?”

Bucky sighs and readjusts his weight before answering.

“The Chief.  Of our tribe.”

“The King of Atlantis?” Steve asks in deadpanned disbelief.

“King?” Bucky laughs, rolling his eyes.  “Monarchies, what a contrived human idea.”

“Not a king then?” Steve clarifies.

“No, he was chosen by the tribe,” Bucky explains.  “Well, a pair is chosen by the tribe as leaders.  But Namor’s mate was the first killed.”

Steve pauses, glancing down at his hands.  He knows what his next question is, but he doesn’t know why he is so nervous to ask it.

“Mate,” Steve repeats before bringing his eyes back up to Bucky.  “Is Nat your mate then?”

“You don’t have a concept for what Nat is to me,” Bucky replies instantly, tone suddenly sour and suspicious.

“You love her?” Steve asks quickly.

Bucky just huffs, genuine frustration on his face.

“Like I said, you wouldn’t understand it if I explained it to you,” he snaps.  Bucky’s face softens a bit as a far-away look flashes through his expression.  “Nat’s a little rough around the edges,” he adds softly.  “She hasn’t always been like this but…it’s a coping mechanism, I suppose.”  Then Bucky glances up at Steve, a hopeful look on his face that Steve hasn’t seen before.  “Maybe you can help change that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks carefully.

Bucky just shakes his head, eyes moving to the darkening sky.

“That’s enough questions,” Bucky says softly.

“Just one more?” Steve asks hopefully.

Bucky stares at the sky a moment longer before bringing his eyes back to Steve.  He shrugs in concession.

“You said you were addictive,” Steve begins cautiously, “what does that mean?”

Bucky smiles a sad smile.

“Steve,” Bucky sighs, “you’re a good guy.  And, despite everything, I like you and I’m sorry that you got involved in all of this.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You already know what it means,” Bucky says, getting to his feet.  Slowly, he moves towards Steve.  Steve’s body stiffens, but he doesn’t move from the spot as Bucky drops to his knees and crawls the remaining few feet between them.  He stops just short of Steve, and Steve can feel his pulse quickening.  But when Bucky lifts his hand, Steve revolts, jerking out of reach.  Bucky sighs sadly.

“You don’t trust me,” Bucky breaths, eyes suddenly wide and boring into Steve’s own.

“Of course I don’t,” Steve replies breathlessly.

Bucky sits back on his heels, tucking his hair behind his ear.  Steve’s throat is dry.  He’s had enough experience to catch onto Bucky’s game.  He knows that the closer the man is, the harder it is to resist him.  So Steve digs his heels in and tries to shove away as far as he can.  Bucky watches him carefully with bright, intelligent eyes.

“It’s complicated, Steve,” Bucky says carefully.  “The things I-…I feel for you, I didn’t think possible ever again.  That’s the truth.”

“I still don’t believe you,” Steve gasps, finding it harder and harder to catch his breath.

“I know you don’t,” Bucky responds sadly.  There’s a long silence, Bucky still watching Steve with wide eyes and blown pupils in the dying light of day.  “I wasn’t supposed to be like this.  I wasn’t made to be deceitful or to inflict pain.  But that’s all I’ve known for so many _many_ years.”

Bucky still doesn’t move, but Steve can hear his heart rate rising.  He raises a hand carefully.  Steve wants to run, he wants to get to his feet and get away.  But he stays rooted on the spot, eyes flitting back and forth between Bucky’s hand and his impossibly wide eyes.

“Can I show you what I was meant for?” Bucky whispers.

“You’re going to knock me out again,” Steve replies, shaking his head furiously.

Bucky shifts forward, putting his weight on his other hand.  Their faces aren’t even a foot apart now, but Steve doesn’t move.

“No tricks,” Bucky promises solemnly.

And damn Steve to hell, but he believes him.  There is no reason to trust Bucky, yet Steve can’t help himself from nodding slowly.  Bucky takes it as permission, and his hand moves forward, thumb brushing along Steve’s cheek with a feather-like touch before Bucky’s fingers move into Steve’s hair.  Bucky closes the distance between them, kissing Steve slowly and gently, so unlike every time before when Bucky’s lips had been frantic and desperate.  Steve sighs, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he kisses back.

Bucky’s body follows, moving into Steve’s space non-insistently.  He presses his bare chest against Steve’s and Steve’s hands move to Bucky’s hips and along Bucky’s sides.  All along, Bucky’s soft lips are like silk and liquor.  Every kiss is soft and sweet and Steve drinks them down, body relaxing in relief under Bucky’s weight.  The brunette climbs into Steve’s lap, legs straddling his thighs as his hands move to the edge of Steve’s shirt.  Bucky’s hips move in sinuous, seductive circles as he tugs, pulling Steve’s shirt away and dropping it in a pile nearby.

When their skin meets, Steve feels it.  It’s like nothing he’s felt before, and he knows it can’t all be in his head.  It feels like electricity is jumping between their bare chests, as Bucky’s smooth, warm skin slides along Steve’s.  Bucky’s hands cup Steve’s face and after each kiss he pulls away a bit.  Steve opens his eyes to find Bucky’s face flushed and chagrin.  And around Bucky is a brilliant, silver glow.  From his own mouth, Steve watches Bucky drink away something bright and shining blue, but his every touch leaves the silver residue on Steve’s skin.  Steve can feel every point of contact and he watches as the silver seems to absorb into him, warming him from the outside in.  Energy flowing from Steve’s mouth into Bucky’s body and then from Bucky’s fingers back into Steve.  It’s unlike anything Steve has ever experienced before.  And still Bucky’s eyes are shut, body gyrating deliciously in Steve’s lap as Bucky’s mouth grows more insistent.

Steve tugs away, watching the glowing energy more closely, unsure if what he is seeing is real.

“What is this?” Steve asks breathlessly.

Bucky’s eyes flutter open and his irises are glowing silver orbs, brighter than the full moon Steve can spot between the trees.

“A completed circuit,” Bucky replies, equally out of breath as his hips grind hard down on Steve’s growing erection.  “Do you feel it?”

Steve feels it.  With each touch, he feels his energy and his pure need growing.  So he lunges forward, flipping Bucky down onto the sandy forest floor.  A small, satisfied gasp escapes Bucky’s lips and Steve’s immediate goal becomes eliciting that sound from Bucky as much as possible.  Steve kisses along Bucky’s jawline and down his throat, and Bucky throws his head back into the sand to expose more skin.  Steve can taste the silver glow, it buzzes on his tongue and down his throat as he swallows it down.  It warms him from the inside and makes him feel high.  He kisses down Bucky’s chest, lavishing his tongue along his perfect, pink nipples.  Bucky eggs him on with breathy gasps and his hands in Steve’s hair.  Steve’s fingers fumble with the clasp of Bucky’s pants, tugging them down to release his cock.

Steve pushes himself up onto his arms and looks down at the feast laid out below him.  His own body is glowing and pulsing with bright blue light that bleeds into the silver radiance of Bucky’s skin.  The colors blend and twist in a force field of ecstasy.  Bucky moans and twists his hips, urging Steve to lean back in and kiss along Bucky’s hip bones, making his way down between the other man’s legs.  When he takes Bucky’s cock into his mouth, Steve’s entire body spasms with sudden energy.  He swallows Bucky down as best he can, his normal gag reflex suddenly numbed by whatever energy is being moved between them.  He bobs his head experimentally a few time, causing Bucky to make a guttural sound and dig his blunt nails into Steve’s scalp.  Steve lavishes Bucky’s cock, the taste, the feel, the sensation that Steve can’t name driving him mad.  The nearby trees are awash with the otherworldly glow that their bodies seem to be casting, a swirling cascade of color, ebbing and flowing in time with their heat beats.

Steve continues to bob his head, tongue moving along the foreskin of Bucky’s cock, making Bucky shiver and spasm and make noises that only encourage Steve further.  Steve brings one hand to the base of Bucky’s cock and the other to cup his heavy balls, fingers inching to the stretch of smooth, warm skin between his balls and his hole.  Bucky’s strong thighs wrap around Steve’s shoulder, drawing him in closer and encouraging Steve’s fingers back further.  Steve pulls his mouth from Bucky’s cock to wet his fingers before he traces Bucky’s fluttering hole.  Bucky’s hips rock desperately as Steve pushes a finger in.  When he gets it to the second knuckle, Bucky sits upright, grabbing Steve’s face in his hands and kissing him passionately, only to then maneuver Steve excellently, flipping him onto his back and straddling his hips.  His deft fingers move to Steve’s pants, undoing the clasp and shoving them down and off of Steve. 

Bucky shoves his fingers into Steve’s mouth, and Steve gets them dripping wet.  Bucky uses that hand to stroke Steve’s untouched cock, and Steve digs his heels into the forest floor, biting his lip so hard that he thinks that he might draw blood.  Bucky bends at the waist, kissing Steve deeply, pushing his tongue into Steve’s mouth as he continues to stroke his throbbing erection.  Then, without warning, Bucky lifts himself off of Steve’s lap only to come back down a moment later and impale himself on Steve’s cock.

Steve feels both like he is being strangled and like he is breathing for the first time.  He throws his head back, closing his eyes against the brilliant light that suddenly begins to crackle like lightning.  Blue and silver pulsating as Bucky settles against Steve’s hips again, Steve’s cock buried deep within him as he begins to rock his hips.  Steve digs his heels in to push up into Bucky, every sensation in his body increased tenfold.  He’s never felt like this before, it’s sinful and otherworldly and Steve is almost afraid that they are about to catch the forest on fire.  Bucky’s hips move in expert circles, back and forth, around and around, changing direction and pace in a way that makes Steve’s entire body begin to spasm.  He reaches up blindly, grabbing at Bucky and hauling him down into a bruising kiss as he thrusts up into his hungry hole.  Bucky settles against Steve’s chest, his hips still rocking back to meet Steve’s thrusts.

“Steve,” Bucky whines.  “Steve open your eyes.”

Steve does as he is asked, opening his eyes to find Bucky face full of pure ecstasy and staring down at him with a look at the Steve has no words to describe.  The blinding light is still around them, sparking and jumping at every touch, with every thrust.  Bucky’s mouth hangs open and he makes pleasured, breathy sounds.

“What is this?” Steve pants, staring up at Bucky in veneration.  He is a god and Steve will spend his every waking moment figuring out how to worship him.

Bucky leans down and kisses Steve deeply, hand gripping Steve’s hair hard.  Bucky pulls back so that he can catch Steve’s eye again.

“This is a Trinity,” Bucky gasps.

Steve doesn’t know what that means, but the very word brings him so close to the edge.  His hands try to gain purchase on Bucky’s hips, but Bucky just brings his fingers to Steve’s wrist to stop him.  Bucky shakes his head hard.

“ _Don’t hold back_ ,” he demands.

Steve grabs the back of Bucky’s neck, tugging him back down into a kiss.  Steve’s back arches off of the sand and his entire body feels like it is about to explode.  Bucky tastes like Heaven, feels like Mecca, fucks like Apollo.  Nothing in the entirety of Steve’s life even comes close to compare.

When Steve comes, the electric blue and silver light goes beyond blinding, beyond explosive.  It becomes super-nova.  His entire body, every single fiber of his being, every hair, every cell, each and every bit is coming, is erupting, is breaking open, soaking in the light, and sewing itself back together just to be split open again.

There is nothing else on earth, nothing matters but this moment which seems to stretch on and on for eternity, beginning and ending over and over.  There is nothing but pure and existential ecstasy.  Steve can’t feel anything but at the same time he feels everything.  The entire world has become a pinpoint and through that pinpoint Steve can experience every sensation in the universe.  He’s floating and falling, laughing and crying, screaming and whispering, breaking and being remade, dying and being born.

Nothing and everything.  Eternity in a single moment


End file.
